Melanic Manor
by Relativity1953
Summary: Legend: There is a haunted house somewhere in the United States that is so scary, no guest has ever finished a full tour.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:** This story contains the character that I created in 'Welcome to the Club' – Kole. In that story, the events were supposed to take place directly following Asylum, however, I started this story after more of the episodes were aired and I couldn't ignore them. There are a couple of places that allude to events in certain episodes (Spoiler warnings are in place) and I apologize if it is confusing, but I guess I am asking you to suspend your disbelief and just go with it. Thanks!

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* * *

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Melanic Manor

_- Prologue -_

oo0oo

**Legend:** There is a haunted house somewhere in the United States that is so scary that no guest has ever finished a full tour.

oo0oo

They were somewhere in New England, but whether they were still in Maine or had reached New Hampshire, they weren't sure. All they knew was that it was getting dark and cold. Winter may have passed, but the snow had only just melted and the wind was still quite chilly. They had been traveling non-stop since lunch and Dean knew that they all needed to eat, stretch, and take a bathroom break.

He pulled the Impala from the dark state route and onto an even darker rural road. The town, if you could even call it that, was obviously not a big tourist attraction. There were few street lamps, fewer stop lights, and no 'golden arches' in sight.

"How about there?" Sam said, pointing up the street and to the left. Had it not been for the single neon beer sign in the front window, he would have thought the place was just another abandoned building. Dean pulled into the parking lot and was surprised to see a dozen cars in the back already.

The interior was a far cry from the exterior. The place was actually nicer than a lot of the bars Dean had frequented. It was clean and only faintly smelled of smoke. There was a good selection of alcohol behind the bar and spotless menus on the tables.

They took a seat at a corner booth. Across the aisle, tables had been pulled together to make enough room for a dozen people, but there were only three girls huddled at one end facing the door. They were whispering and giggling and making no attempt to hide the fact that they had been checking out both Dean and Sam since they walked in. Apparently, they were not too worried that Kole, who had walked in with the boys, might be dating one of the Winchesters.

"Can I get you guys anything to eat?" a 30-something waitress asked with a pleasant smile.

"Yeah," Dean told her with a grin of his own, "I'll have a cheese burger with everything, fries, and whatever you have on tap that isn't light." The waitress nodded and then looked at Sam.

"Hamburger, plain; fries; and whatever you have on tap that _is_ light." The waitress chuckled a little as she wrote down the order.

"I'll have a bowl of clam chowder and a… not-light beer," Kole told her, then the waitress walked away.

"Clam chowder?" Dean asked.

"Well, when in New England…" Kole began, but the rest was cut off by hoots and hollers from the three girls as another girl and two boys walked in the door and sat down. The group began laughing and talking loudly, but the only thing intelligible to anyone not sitting at the table was that they were ordering another pitcher of beer and that the three newcomers had made it to the 'third floor'.

It was just over a half an hour later when two more guys walked in to cheers from the same table. Again, they sat, talked, laughed, and ordered a pitcher of beer. The two new guys told stories of doctors and dentists and the 'fourth floor'.

As Dean finished the last bite of his burger and polished off his beer, he noticed that the fourth floor guys were beginning to taunt the third floor guys. He saw that the latter two were eying the pool tables at the back of the bar while moodily trying to ignore their friends. Dean ordered another beer and headed back to a table in the hopes of sparking up a game and making some money. He didn't have to wait long.

When Sam finished eating, he took out the newspaper that he had bought during their lunch break and began scanning it once again to try and find anything out of the ordinary. Nothing looked promising. In frustration, he crumbled the paper into a ball and went to throw it away.

On the way back to the table, he noticed that the party of eight (including the two guys that were still playing pool with Dean) were no longer laughing, but nervously looking at the door of the bar. They weren't talking loudly; rather, an uneasy hush seemed to have fallen over them. The two fourth floor guys got up from the table and left, but returned about twenty minutes later. The group huddled together and began whispering.

When the waitress brought Sam and Kole each another beer, she stopped at the large table to ask if they wanted anything else. Sam saw that one of the girls jumped a little and another shook her head quickly, each immediately turning back to watch the door.

"So," Dean said as he sat back down at the table, "should we just stay here tonight?"

"Yeah, I guess," Sam told him. "We don't have any set destination – I haven't found us another job."

"Excuse me," one of the girls from the large table said timidly. "Do any of you have the time?" Then, seeing that both Kole and Dean turned to the clock on the wall behind the bar, she added, "I mean, I just wanted to see if that one was right."

"Yeah," Sam said with a quick glance at both the clock and his watch, "it's right."

"Oh," she said quietly and with a hint of disappointment. "Thanks." She began to walk back to her table.

"Is something wrong?" Dean asked. The girl turned back towards their table and looked at them with an anxious expression. He noticed that the rest of her group was now looking at them, all with the same worried faces. "Are you guys waiting for someone?"

"Well, it's like this…" one of the guys started as Dean, Sam, and Kole joined the larger group at their table. "Have you guys ever heard of the haunted house that is supposed to be so scary that no one has ever gone all the way through?"

"The urban legend, you mean," Kole said more than asked.

"Yeah," one of the girls said, "we thought it was a legend, too. But, we found it. It's here in our town."

"Found it?" Sam asked, skeptical. "If the infamous too-scary haunted house is your town, why would you have to 'find' it? And how come no one else can ever pinpoint its location?"

"Well, it hasn't _always_ been here," she tried to explain. "I mean, the building has, but it's been abandoned for years. The haunted house part, though… that's new…"

"And we had to check it out," the first guy took up the story again. "There were ten of us at the start. We stayed together at the beginning but once some people got too scared," he looked over at Dean's pool buddies, "we came here."

"That was the plan anyway," the girl took over again. "We knew that we weren't all brave enough to go through the whole thing, so we decided that we would meet back here when each of us left the house." She looked at the door again.

"Ten of you," Dean said. "So, you're still waiting for two of your friends?"

"Yeah," the first guy said, "but it's after 8:00 now. We started at 5:00…"

"And," one of the other girls said, "they told us that each of the floors shouldn't take more than a half an hour to get through."

"They?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, there were three guys there. Brothers, I think. They said they were the ones who were in charge of the house. They took the money and explained the rules to us."

"Let me guess," Dean said, "if you make it the whole way through, you get your money back."

"Actually," the first girl said, "you pay $50 to get in and get $5 back for each floor you complete. But, if you make it through all five floors, you get $100."

"And you don't think that your friends are just trying to finish the last floor?" Sam asked.

"Or, they've finished and just decided to call it a night?" Kole added.

"No," the first guy said. "Scott and I went back to check."

"Yeah," said the guy next to him – apparently Scott. "But the dudes that were working at the place were… weird. One told us that Jay and Mike were still in there, another said that they left, and… and the third one said that there were only eight of us to start with."

* * *

Melanic - very black 


	2. Coimetrophobia

**Coimetrophobia**

_- Floor 1, part 1 -_

oo0oo

Sam was not exactly pleased with what Dean was proposing. He knew that his brother was not very good at waiting, but this was ridiculous.

"I just think we should do a little research, that's all," he tried to tell Dean. "On what?" Dean asked without looking away from the trunk of the Impala. Currently, Kole was distracting the kids by getting more information from them about the too-scary haunted house, Sam was keeping watch, and Dean was digging through his arsenal for supplies. The kids had told them that there was no usable parking lot near the building, having been abandoned to the elements long ago. In other words, they were going to walk. "Dean!" Sam was slightly exasperated. "Don't you feel like we're going in blind?" "Sam, it's a haunted house _attraction_. Besides, don't tell me you haven't heard every story there is about this urban legend. I'm sure these three guys have just converted some cheap, old property into what they claim is the infamous house to make a profit. It's a hoax." "And the two missing kids?" "Well," Dean said as he closed the trunk and smiled at Sam, "that's where we come in." 

Sam looked over to where Kole was standing in the middle of the eight nervous kids. They looked as if they were all talking at once.

"How can she possibly hear, let alone understand, what they're all saying?" Dean asked as he followed Sam's gaze.

"She _was_ a college professor. Maybe it's a course you take for a teaching degree."

Kole finished writing something on a take-out menu, waved goodbye to the kids, and walked back to Dean and Sam.

"Well," Kole said as they started walking in the direction of the haunted house, "I didn't find out much more from them. The building has five floors. You have to cross each floor to get to the next one, like a vertical zigzag, because the stairways only go up one floor each. So, you either go up or out. There's an outside doorway at each stairwell, but once you're out, the door locks and you can't re-enter."

"Oh, this can't be it," Sam said after they walked for about fifteen minutes in the direction the kids had told them. "Can it? I mean, when those two guys came back to look for their friends, they were there and back..."

"Maybe they ran," Dean said absently.

The haunted house wasn't so much a house as a large old building that looked to be condemned from the outside. If there were only five stories, they must have each been at least twice the height of normal floors, as if a group of warehouses had been stacked on top of one another. "Did the kids say what this building used to be used for?" Dean asked Kole. "No," she said with a shake of her head. "It had been vacant for as long as any of them could remember. It was most likely abandoned long before any of them were born by the looks of it." "Are we sure this is it?" Sam asked. "I mean, there are no signs or anything…" But his words drifted off as two men, twins, walked around to the front of the building and watched them approach. They were tall, about Sam's height, and bulky. They had light grey-blue eyes and long, stringy orange-red hair that made Sam's shaggy mop look clean cut. They were both wearing jeans, T-shirts, and flannels, all in various states of disarray. "Hey, fellas," Dean said, attempting to start a conversation, but neither twin paid him the slightest amount of attention. Their eyes were fixed firmly on Kole, leering at her, making both Winchesters slightly uneasy. 

"Roth! Trey!" came a loud, fierce voice, the owner still on the opposite side of the building.

"Yeah!" one of the twins yelled back, still not taking his eyes from Kole. When his head turned slightly to the side, Sam took note of a C-shaped scar around his eye – the only physical difference he noticed in the twins.

"What are you two…" the disembodied voice started, but cut off as another man rounded the building and saw that they had company. This man was a little bit taller than the twins and had inky black hair, but his face was nearly identical to the men he now stood between.

"Can I help you kids?" the man asked with a quick look at Dean and Sam, and then joined his brothers' appraising stare at the lone female.

"Yeah," Dean said, "we heard about your haunted house…"

"We're closed for the night," the dark haired man interrupted without looking at Dean.

Sam had had about enough. He was about to put his arm around his cousin in the hope that these creeps might take the hint that she was not available to them when Dean spoke again.

"Aw, come on guys. Our sister has never been in a haunted house before."

"Come on, Lee," the twin with the scar said. "I'm sure we can make an… exception," he said the last word while returning his lecherous gaze at Kole. But Lee was still hesitant.

"It's probably just as well," Kole shrugged and looked at Dean with big, innocent eyes, "I scare more easily than you guys. I wouldn't want to spoil your fun by making you leave the haunted house just for me. And I would hate to have to sit out here all alone while waiting for you." She gave a shiver for emphasis.

Now, both redheads were looking at their dark-haired brother. Kole looked away from Dean and, having easily determined who was in charge, looked toward Lee with her head tilted at an angle and a bashful grin. Not being one to bat her eyes, she gave Lee a slow motion blink to seal the deal. 

"Fifty bucks. Each," was all the man said. Dean stepped forward to pay for the three of them.

"This way folks," the scarless twin said with a wicked smile and a nod for the group to follow him. He led the way to the front door and his double brought up the rear.

Dean and Sam started to enter the building, but hesitated when they saw the scarred twin reach out and grab Kole's arm. He looked down at her, easily a foot taller, and sneered.

"If you get too scared, you know where to find me." The scarless twin looked at his brother with a scowl and grunted. "Us," the man conceded. "You know where to find _us_."

"I certainly do," Kole said, forcing herself to smile. "Thanks." She tried walking away but the man didn't let go of her arm, apparently not getting the hint.

"Come on, _sis_," Sam said, putting his arm around Kole's shoulders and steering her away from the twins and into the haunted house behind Dean.

"Thanks," Kole whispered, although they were out of earshot as the heavy iron door closed them into an entryway to the house.

"Yeah," Sam said absently, then walked toward Dean and punched him in the arm. "Sister? Our sister? What was that about?"

"Sister implies that they have a chance with her," Dean told him, rubbing his arm, "but it also gives us a great reason to be over-protective brothers if necessary." He grinned at his own logic and quick thinking.

"And you're OK with that?" Sam asked, turning to his cousin. "Wait. Don't answer that." He rolled his eyes and shook his head at the lopsided grin on her face. _Of course she's OK with it_, he thought with exasperation.

"Nice, by the way," Dean said to Kole. "The shiver was a nice touch. And the, 'I don't want to sit out here alone…' Priceless." He chuckled, but having a smooth-talking female on the team certainly had its advantages.

"It got us in, didn't it," she said with an innocent shrug that didn't have either of her cousins fooled.

_Yeah_, Sam thought with worry, _she's only been riding with us for a couple months and she's already got the act down pat._

"OK kids," Dean said, taking a step back. "Chose your weapons." He opened his jacket like he was going to try and sell them Rolex knock-offs from the lining of his coat, but Dean's wares were of a different variety.

"Wow," Kole said, impressed. "How did you fit all that in your jacket? And how did you keep from making any noise?"

"I'm just that good," Dean said with a grin and began handing out weapons, holy water, and flashlights. "Well, let's get this show on the road."

They each took a deep breath and readied themselves as Dean opened the inner door to the haunted house.

"Wow," Kole said again, this time with absolute awe. "You know, you were actually right. I've never been in a haunted house before. Well, not one that's set up to be a haunted house anyway. Is this… typical?"

"Nuh-uh," was all Sam could manage.

The three of them walked in slowly, not so much out of fear, but wonder. The room was immense and looked even more so, as the walls and ceiling were painted blue-black to resemble the night sky. It was lit to give the impression of a full moon. The ground was dirt, earth, with an unevenness that felt too real. There was even a slight breeze flitting through the air by unseen, unheard fans. They had walked into a graveyard.

Dean let the door close once they were all through. It slid slowly and silently, only to give a loud thud when it finally shut. Sam jumped and turned around to face his brother, who gave him a quick 'sorry' shrug.

"This is just… amazing," Kole said, as she wandered through the headstones, completely in admiration. "I can't believe…" stopping mid-sentence, mid-step. "What the…" she whispered, looking down at an inscription, then gasped and fell to her knees in shock.

"Kole?" Dean jogged to where she was kneeling. "Kole, what's wrong?" When she didn't answer, didn't even tear her eyes away from the stone, he read the inscription.

* * *

Thomas Daniel Miller

_Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal._

August 4, 1978 – September 30, 1996

* * *

"Kole…" Dean began as he knelt down next to her. She finally looked at him with large, glassy eyes, though she wouldn't let any tears actually fall – a quality that Dean was grateful for. 

"I don't… how… Tommy… why…" she stuttered while looking back and forth between Dean and the headstone. He was about to reach out, put a hand on her shoulder to try and calm her and prompt her to talk, when Sam's voice caught his attention.

"Dean!" Sam was not far from Dean and Kole, only a few rows of faux-graves away. But, as Dean stood up, he could already see that his brother was looking at a headstone that was affecting him in much the same way as Kole.

"Sam? You OK?" he asked slowly, not liking the pattern that was forming in front of him.

"Dean," Sam said, looking at his brother with bewilderment, "how did they do it?"

Without asking him to elaborate, Dean looked down at the headstone that had taken Sam's attention. There were three candles sitting on top of it and various curios in front, including an old teddy bear. Dean didn't need to look at the picture in the circled, inlaid frame on the stone to know what was upsetting his brother. And, he didn't need to read the inscription to know what it said:

* * *

Jessica Lee Moore

August 24, 1982 – November 11, 2005

* * *

Coimetrophobia: the fear of cemeteries


	3. Spectrophobia

**Spectrophobia**

_- Floor 1, part 2 -_

oo0oo

Jessica Lee Moore and Thomas Daniel Miller. The two names were not particularly unusual; though for both of them to _happen_ to appear on gravestones in a mock-cemetery wasn't a bet Dean would ever put money on. And the fact that the dates and stones themselves matched… well, the odds were astronomical.

Sam was looking at him with such hope-filled eyes, wanting his brother to be able to explain it all. But, try as he might to think of something, anything, Dean was coming up empty. Then, something clicked. He remembered Kole mentioning the name 'Tommy' as someone who had died in a fire.

"Maybe," he took a wild stab, "maybe they found out the names of people who died in fires. Maybe they just randomly picked a cause of death and found obituaries to match." He was starting to warm up to the idea. "I'm sure those three don't have the creativity to make up enough names and dates on their own…"

Sam was nodding, wanting so much for that to be the answer. Unfortunately, Kole had settled down and found her voice.

"And that's the theory you're going with here?" Kole asked, skeptically from her now-seated position a few faux-grave rows over.

As Dean turned to face her, the cuff of his jeans caught on something and he lost his balance, falling to the ground; his elbow making contact with a small headstone that barely broke the surface. Rubbing feeling back into his elbow, Dean looked down at the small, plain stone.

"Well," he muttered, "there goes that idea."

"Dean?" Sam leaned down to give his brother a hand. "You OK?" Dean tried to cover the stone, but Sam saw it anyway and gave his brother an anxious look.

* * *

Dean Michael Winchester

January 24, 1979 – March 7, 2006

* * *

"Did you guys feel that?" Kole asked as Sam pulled Dean to his feet. 

"Yeah," Sam said, looking around, "the wind – "

"Fans," Dean corrected.

"Fans, whatever. They're getting stronger."

"No, not that…" then she felt it again. It was a slight vibration, a shifting of dirt beneath her. She wasn't sure if they had earthquakes in New England and had never actually experienced one herself, but she imagined that this might be what a mild tremor felt like.

The boys hadn't felt anything, but before she could explain…

"What was that?" Dean asked, scanning his surroundings.

It was definitely wood. And it was definitely a sort of cracking. Kole imagined the trees in winter, frozen branches swaying in the breeze. Sam thought of the old wooden floor from his apartment back at Stanford, creaking beneath his feet. But Dean knew better.

"OK guys," he said, taking out his sawed-off shotgun filled with cartridges of rock salt, "I think we better keep moving." He began making his way towards the opposite end of the room. He couldn't see the door but knew the exit had to be in that general direction.

Sam gave the replica of Jess's grave one last sad look and then followed Dean's lead, towards the exit and readying his weapon.

Kole stood and took a step to follow but then heard something new. She stopped moving and listened for the sound, the whispering, again. It was soft, but it was gaining volume, and she could make out 'key' and 'me'.

"This way, Sammy," Dean said as he cut through the rows of headstones in a diagonal path. The creaking was getting louder and was accompanied by cracking. And though he couldn't make out anything distinct, he had a feeling he could hear far off voices and moans.

The ground beneath her feet was moving again, but Kole didn't notice for all the concentration she was giving the whispers. They were becoming clearer, and then she understood.

"Nikki, help me. Please, help me Nikki."

She stood motionless, staring at the dirt in front of her as it continued to shift and open up, a hole growing larger and nearing her feet. Her brain was screaming to move, but her body wouldn't listen. And, from the grave, she saw one and then a second hand slowly creep through the surface. All the while, the voice got louder and more desperate.

"Finally," Dean said when he found the door that had been painted to match the walls, but it wouldn't open.

"What's the matter?" Sam asked him.

"It's locked," the 'duh' apparent in his voice. He turned around to face Sam and noticed for the first time that Kole was not behind them. He stepped around Sam to look for her and saw that she had yet to move from her position near the headstone. "Kole!" he yelled out, but she remained in a daze and paid no attention.

"Dean…" Sam started anxiously.

"I see it," he replied as he started walking back towards Kole, knowing his brother saw the undead thing climbing out of the faux-grave in front of her. "Work on getting that lock open."

Sam turned back to the door, obediently took out his lock pick set, and began his operation without question. Now was not the time to argue about the difference between orders and requests.

Dean walked carefully back to Tommy's grave, noting that it was not the only one that showed signs of life, or rather, movement. Though, it did seem to be the liveliest. The figure was making his way out of the dirt quite quickly and would soon be standing in front of Kole. Dean quickened his pace.

"Nikki, help me," his voice pleaded to her. "It's cold… I miss you…" Kole was shaking and trying to keep the tears from her eyes. She began whispering apologies to her friend, not knowing what else to do since she was no longer capable of moving.

"Please, Nikki, help me…" he said, reaching his hand out to her.

"Kole! Down!" Dean yelled when he saw the corpse move towards her. He shot the rock salt right in the center of the thing's back, but the spray went right through it. The body, that had seemed solid enough as it emerged from the earth, wavered out of existence, leaving Dean to see what the salt had actually made contact with.

Instead of dropping the way she had been taught to when one of the boys yelled 'Down', Kole remained standing face to sorrowful face with her old friend. Lucky for her, Tommy had been a bit taller than she was. And luckier still, Dean had shot him from an angle and not head on. Instead of a chest or face full of rock salt, Dean only managed to pepper her right shoulder.

"Kole!" Dean yelled as he ran over to where she was now laying face first in the dirt, the force of the shot having spun her around and knocked her to the ground. Gently taking her left arm, he helped her sit up.

"Umm… ow," she mumbled in accusation, then coughed a couple times and spit out a mouthful of dirt.

"Sorry," Dean said weakly and cringed when he saw her frayed sleeve and a couple abrasions on her right cheek, one of which was bleeding slightly. "You were supposed to drop," he said while helping her to her feet.

"I… couldn't. I don't know why, but I couldn't seem to move. Why… Dean, look out!"

Dean crouched down and spun around just in time to dodge a punch thrown by an undead version of himself. Kole grabbed for the first thing she could think of – a flask of holy water from her pocket. She flipped it open and tried to spray the not-Dean with it, only to have the water go through him and splash the gravestone behind him.

"Wait a minute," Dean said as he stood up and passed an unbelieving hand through the midsection of his double, "it's not real." But, as he looked into the sneering face in front of him, not-Dean swung his fist again and connected with real-Dean's chin. Caught off guard, real-Dean went down.

Then, not-Dean turned to Kole and swung at her. She was able to bring her own arm up in time to try and block, but the fist went through her block and connected with her cheek. Stunned, she landed on the ground next to Dean.

"Well," he said as her turned to face her, "that doesn't seem fair."

"Run?" she asked.

"Run," he agreed. They both got to their feet and ran towards Sam and the door to the next floor. Not-Dean took off after them and was joined by others as they climbed from their graves. Dean and Kole had to dodge gravestones and emerging hands as they ran.

They were nearing the edge of the cemetery and could see Sam holding the door open for them, beckoning them forward, when Dean tripped over a small, tilted gravestone. He rolled and tried to regain his footing, only to be stopped by a large rectangular stone at his back. Before he could make another move, his double caught up with him and blocked his path. Not-Dean looked down at him with an evil grin and pulled his foot back to give real-Dean a sharp kick to the belly. Real-Dean curled up instinctively and shut his eyes tight, bracing himself for the pain. But it never came.

"Dean!" he heard Sam yell. He opened his eyes slowly and found that his double was no longer in front of him. He looked around and stood up cautiously.

"Kole, look out!" Sam yelled again. Dean whipped his head around and saw that Kole, who had stopped running momentarily when Dean tripped, was now surrounded by six undead. One of them was approaching her with fists clenched. She stood her ground and, just before a fist could make contact with her face, she closed her eyes.

"What the…" Dean started as he watched the fist move seemingly through Kole's head. Once the large undead man completed his momentum, he wavered away the way Kole's friend had. But, his thoughts were interrupted when more of the undead started towards him; one came close enough to ram into him and send him over the large rectangular gravestone. He landed on his back with a painful thud.

"Dean," Kole called out, "close your eyes."

"You've got to be kidding me," he grumbled, but then looked up to see the linebacker-shaped undead man put his hand on the gravestone, using it for leverage as he jumped over it. Dean's eyes snapped shut just as the man was about to land on him. Nothing.

"There's a tree to your left, Kole," he heard Sam call out and realized that Kole was moving for the door with her eyes closed. "Move a little more to your right. The branches… OK, you're past them."

Dean stood up and slowly began making his way towards Sam. He stretched out his arms low in front of him, reaching out to make sure he didn't run into anything. He moved his feet low to the ground and took small steps to try and avoid tripping. Still, he managed to run into something.

"Uh… Marco?" he called out to his brother.

"You're at the wall, Dean," Sam told him, referring to the four foot stone wall that surrounded the edge of the cemetery. "Move about six feet to your left. Kole, you need to go about five feet to your right."

Both Dean and Kole, eyes still closed, began moving towards each other with one hand on the wall. When they reached the opening, Dean chanced a look behind him. The undead stood close enough to reach out and touch them, but stayed where they were. Once Kole was through the opening, Dean walked through backwards, still watching the undead. As he passed the threshold, they all wavered out of sight.

"They're gone," he said quietly, still trying to figure out what they were in the first place.

"Come on," Sam said, "we've got four more floors to go." He held the door open for Kole to walk through. Dean started through the doorway then stopped and looked at Sam.

"Dude, when someone says 'Marco', the right answer is 'Polo'," he said with a grin.

Sam rolled his eyes and followed him through the door and up the stairway to the second floor.

* * *

Spectrophobia: the fear of specters or ghosts


	4. Cleithrophobia

**Spoilers:** mentions of events from 'The Benders'

**

* * *

**

Cleithrophobia

_- Floor 2, part1 -_

oo0oo

The stairway to the second floor was made of uneven stones, which jutted out at odd angles. The walls contained mismatched torches, candles, and lanterns that flickered wildly, throwing light here and there without a regular pattern. The effect was very disconcerting and it made Sam have a difficult time keeping his balance.

"Well, are we ready for what's behind door number two?" Dean asked when they reached a wooden door that appeared to be made of old and rejected planks of wood, none of them straight and all of them splintered, which had been haphazardly nailed together.

"Yes, please," Sam said while pinching the bridge of his nose. "This stairway is giving me a headache."

Dean pushed the door open with care, more afraid that it would simply fall apart with the movement than worrying about something hidden just beyond it. They passed the threshold and looked around. The outer walls of the large area contained more mismatched lanterns that did little to illuminate the room. In the dimness, the second floor resembled a typical workplace filled with rows and rows of cubicles.

Sam wandered forward to one of the nearest squares, took out his flashlight and looked inside. He jumped backwards in surprise at what he saw.

"Sam?" Kole asked, coming towards him. "Are you OK?" Dean followed her and they both looked in to see a cage with thick metal bars. "Whoa, that's one way to keep your employees from leaving their work stations."

"Sammy?" Dean's smirk quickly disappeared when he saw the sickly look on his brother's face.

"I'm fine, Dean," he mumbled irritably. "Let's just keep moving." And, without waiting for his brother or cousin, started walking towards the opposite end of the room, trying his best to keep his eyes straight ahead and not look into the passing cubicles.

"What was that about?" Kole whispered to Dean, giving him an apologetic look.

Dean gave her a non-committal shrug. Sam hadn't said much about his time trapped in hillbilly prison and Dean had assumed that it meant he was fine. Apparently, his little brother had adopted Dean's own penchant for censoring any information he didn't want to dwell on.

"Hey," he said, trying to quickly change the subject, "I meant to ask… how did you know closing your eyes would work? You know, back there with… well, whatever those things were."

"Umm," Kole hesitated, turned to face him, bit her lip, "I guessed."

"You guessed? How would you guess that?"

"Dean, I don't know if you really want to know the way my mind works. It can be a pretty scary place," she told him with a grin. "But, I suppose it finally all fit together when that… other you… tried to kick you. You looked away, but I saw what happened. His leg kind of went through you and he vanished. When one of them took a swing at me, I just closed my eyes to test the theory."

"Kind of a risky test, isn't it?"

"Yeah, well, hindsight is 20/20. I wasn't really thinking too clearly at that point."

Dean slowed down for a moment, noticing that there was a break in the line of cubicles. He took out his flashlight and glanced down the aisle to the left and saw at least two more rows of cubicles and could only guess that there were another couple rows to the right. His curiosity nearly took over, but he glanced towards his brother and saw that Sam was quite a bit ahead of them now and not slowing.

"My turn for a question," Kole's voice got Dean walking forward again.

"Shoot."

"OK, I get why Tommy and Sam's girlfriend were downstairs. I mean, I don't know how, but these guys are obviously messing with our minds somehow." She paused, trying to figure out how to ask her question. "But, what I don't get… why were… _you_ down there?"

"It's kind of a long story."

"Well, then give me the Cliff Notes version."

"OK, let's just say that I'm not dead," he smirked, "but that's not what my death certificate says."

Kole was about to ask him to expand on his explanation, when something to her right caught her eye. She aimed her flashlight at a cubicle and gasped.

"What is it?" Dean asked, then his own breath caught in his throat as he looked over her shoulder. Inside the cubicle was another cage; only this one was not empty. Inside was an emaciated body.

"Is it… real?" Kole grimaced. Judging by the clothing and the size of the body, the figure was that of a teenager.

"Well, I'm no expert," Dean said, trying to keep from gagging. "But, if it's not, it's a real good likeness." He backed away from the cage and turned to see an empty aisle.

"Where's Sam?" Dean asked.

"I don't know," Kole said, already starting to jog ahead, pausing only to glance into the cubicles she passed. There were more cages, and more and more of them were occupied.

"Sammy," Dean called out, not quite a yell, but a bit louder to try and gain Sam's attention. No answer. Unnerved, he began jogging as well and quickly caught up with Kole.

They stopped when they found another break in the row of cubicles. Shining their flashlights ahead of them and to either side, all they could see were vacant aisles. They both tried calling out to Sam again and were met with the same silence.

"Split up?" Kole asked Dean.

He didn't really like the idea. Logically, he supposed it made sense; they would find Sam quicker if they separated. But, it also meant that, until one of them found Sam, they would all three be on their own.

* * *

Cleithrophobia: the fear of being locked in an enclosed place


	5. Merinthophobia

**Spoilers:** mentions of events from 'The Benders'

**

* * *

**

Merinthophobia

_- Floor 2, part 2 -_

oo0oo

_This place just keeps getting better,_ Sam thought to himself. _First Jess's grave and now the stairway to Hell._ Funny how, even given how he and Dean were raised and all the evil that they knew of, Sam had still always held to the childish belief that Hell was down and Heaven was up. Though, come to think of it, the way his mother and girlfriend died on the ceiling above him… it almost made sense to him that Heaven and Hell were in reverse, direction-wise.

"Well, are we ready for what's behind door number two?" Dean asked when they reached the top of the stairs.

"Yes, please," Sam told him while pinching the bridge of his nose. "This stairway is giving me a headache."

The second floor was nothing like the first. Of course, second story graveyards are probably not a very popular idea, so they weren't exactly expecting a repeat. However, what they discovered, a floor that resembled a typical workplace filled with rows and rows of cubicles, was a bit bewildering.

Wandering toward one of the nearest squares, Sam took out his flashlight and looked inside. He jumped backwards in surprise at what he saw.

"Sam?" Kole asked, coming towards him. "Are you OK?"

"Sammy?" Dean's voice asked just behind her.

"I'm fine, Dean," he mumbled irritably. "Let's just keep moving."

To be honest, Sam hadn't realized that the sight of a cage would affect him in such a way. But, without warning, images of gap-toothed hillbillies with a fondness for hunting humans and the scream of a man who thought he had gotten away from them, filled his head making his headache turn nearly lethal.

_I guess I won't be visiting a zoo any time soon,_ he thought. Not that that had even been an option for him since the field trip he went on in the second grade. _Of course, with my luck, our next job will include a possessed baboon._

Sam did his best to keep his eyes forward, not needing another blast of images and sounds on top of the pain he already felt. He began walking faster, just needing to get to the end of this room, to get to the next floor.

At a break in the row, he looked back, over his shoulder, to see his brother and cousin had not only slowed, but actually stopped in front of one of the cubes. He was about to call out to them, about to remind them that the boys they were looking for had made it to the last floor, when he heard something to his left. He closed his eyes and tried concentrating on the sound, still weary of looking at the cages.

It was so soft that he may have missed it if he hadn't stopped, but now he was sure it was there. Someone nearby was crying.

Sam listened carefully and followed the sobs through the gap in the row and into the next aisle. He hesitated for only a second before taking a deep breath and looking up. Instead of a cage, inside the cube was a set of pillories, enough for three people to fit their hands and heads in.

Feeling relieved, and a little guilty for that relief, Sam continued his search for the crier. He walked by two empty cubes before he found her.

"Hello?" he said softly.

The girl, who looked to be in her late teens, tensed and sniffled her crying to an end.

"Don't you come near me," she tried to portray confidence but failed miserably. "I don't know who you are and I don't care. But, you're going to be sorry about this. My Dad-"

"Hey, hey, take it easy," Sam said, sympathetic voice in place. Realizing that she couldn't lift her head to see higher than his knees, he kneeled down and tried to face her. "I'm here to help you."

"Yeah?" He nodded. "OK, then. How about getting me out of this thing?"

"Right," he smiled and rose to his feet once more. "I don't suppose you know where the key is."

"I think it's on the wall… over there," she pointed with one of her trapped hands.

Sam walked over to the wall. There was a ledge mounted to it with various odds and ends piled on top. He rifled through the contents but couldn't find anything resembling a key.

"I don't see anything…" he let his words trail off as he continued to search.

"Keep looking," she told him, her voice suddenly calm and callous, and close.

Sam was about to turn around when a new pain formed at the base of his skull. It wasn't enough to knock him unconscious, but enough to knock him to the ground. In his stunned state, he was no match for the figure behind him.

One arm reached out and held Sam firmly around the shoulders; the other hand (too large to belong to the teenage girl) brought some kind of saturated cloth up to his nose and mouth. On instinct, the sudden attack caused him to gasp, which was the wrong move. The first deep intake of breath caused his body to relax, so much so that he felt numb. The world around him began to spin and fade in and out. With the last of his consciousness fading, Sam thought:

_Chloroform? Now I'm being kidnapped in a circa 1980 television show…_

* * *

Merinthophobia: the fear of being bound or tied up

pillory: device used for punishment by public humiliation.

While the stocks held a person in place by their ankles, the pillory held a person's neck and wrists between hinged wooden boards that were locked together to secure the captive.


	6. Traumatophobia

**Spoilers:** mentions of events from 'The Benders'

**

* * *

**

Traumatophobia

_- Floor 2, part 3 -_

oo0oo

"OK," Dean said, trying to remain calm while his brother's sudden disappearance was making him anything but, "If we split up… We'll split up, take a quick look in the cubicles, and then meet back here in the center aisle at each break. I don't like the idea of being out of sight any longer than necessary."

"Agreed. And Dean? We'll find him," Kole told him, knowing that the addition of a 'don't worry' would be useless and unappreciated.

Kole started for the left-hand aisle, so Dean took off towards the right. He knew Sam's legs were freakishly long, but that still didn't account for how quickly he managed to vanish. And, he couldn't be so far ahead that he didn't hear when Dean and Kole shouted for him. But, the alternative did little to ease Dean's trepidation.

_If those freak-shows did anything to hurt Sammy…_

He stopped mid-thought as he glanced into the first cubicle. Rather than a cage, inside was large and sturdy-looking chair. There were buckled straps on each of the arms and on the front two legs. Mounted on one of the walls was a small cage, the openings too small for a person to reach into, but Dean could see that it held various needles and knives. He could also see a large padlock at the bottom to prevent any of the rusty tools from going missing.

He pushed himself to keep moving, passing more cubicles containing the evil looking chair and box of utensils. By the time he reached the gap in the row, his breathing was labored due to his increasing anxiety.

"Dean?" Kole met him at the center aisle. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," he said, taking a deep breath. Then he noticed that she seemed a little pale. "You?"

"Yeah," she told him with little enthusiasm, not even trying to convince him or herself.

They looked at each other for a moment, as if to verify that the other was, in fact, unscathed. Then, without a word, they each turned to begin the next leg of the search.

If he wasn't so angry with them, Dean would have to congratulate the crazies in charge here. This place was actually quite a house of horrors. Not only did he see cages and chairs, but there were also tables with the same thick straps and cage of instruments. Some cubes had columns in the middle of them with various chains flowing from them, obviously used to keep people captive.

But what worried him the most was what he saw when he began a new row about two-thirds of the way to the end of the floor. Suddenly, the cubicles were empty. Well, that wasn't exactly true. There were varying amounts of blood on the floor and walls.

By the time he met up with Kole again at the center aisle, his body was practically vibrating with fury. He was about to let out a string of curses when he looked at her and saw that she had turned a whiter shade of pale than she was before.

"You OK?" he asked her. "I mean, you look like you're going to get sick."

"Yeah," she told him lightly. "Haunted house torture chambers are a lot different than the ones in wax museums…"

"Yeah?" He asked cautiously. Her eyes seemed a little dull, less vibrant than usual. When she noticed he was studying her, she shook her head and hinted at a smile.

"I'm… well, fine seems a strong word right now, but its close enough. I guess this is all a little too real for me. I mean, the pillories and stocks… and there were whips and cat o' nine tails and branding irons…"

Dean gave an involuntary shudder at the last mention, but either she didn't notice or pretended not to.

"I found blood," he said quietly, solemnly.

Kole scrunched up her nose a little and then sighed almost sadly. She turned around; ready to get the next search over with when they heard a familiar voice call out.

"Dean!"

---

Sam was finding it hard to force the haziness from his brain and simply wake up. His body still felt the tingling numbness induced by the outdated anesthetic in his system. He tried to move, thinking it would help. It didn't.

As soon as Sam attempted to bring his hands to his face, intending to rub the sleep from his eyes, he felt a sharp stinging in both of his wrists. With the clarity that the pain brought him, he discovered that his head was also pounding and his entire body had an unpleasant soreness due to protesting muscles.

When he finally opened his eyes, he realized why. Once again, he found himself back in the Benders' barn – only, it was different. No, he was in a haunted house, right? And the cage he was sitting in, locked in, was smaller than the one he had previously occupied. Lastly, this time his hands were tied and suspended above his head, the rope looping one of the bars. No wonder his entire body hurt.

He had no idea how long he had been unconscious, but it was enough time for him to be moved (carried, dragged?) to a new location and strung up. He wasn't sure where he had been moved to, but figured he was still on the second floor of the haunted house. He could see that he was in a cubicle and could make out another across from him.

He tested the rope around his wrists and attempted to undo or at least loosen the knots. But the rope, more like cord really, was thin but strong. There wasn't enough slack to maneuver his numbed fingers properly and the knots were unfamiliar to him.

He gave up for a moment and let his head fall back, which turned out to be another wrong move. The world flashed and spun, along with his stomach.

He slowly lifted his head and took in his surroundings. That's when he noticed distant sound of screams. Once brought to his attention, they seemed to get louder and he could pick out the voices: Dean and Kole.

Panicking, Sam began pulling at the rope suspending him, willing it to snap. Not that it consented. The screams, painful cries of no-s and please-s and worse, were too much. He couldn't let that happen again. He couldn't remain in his little cage while he knew his loved ones were being tortured, possibly killed. He couldn't feel that helpless again.

A particularly loud and distressing yelp in his brother's voice filled his ears.

"Dean!"

---

"This way!" Dean said, already running to the far left-hand corner of the room, weaving in and out of cubicle rows to get there.

He stopped to listen for movement, not knowing which direction to head next when Sam obligingly yelled again.

"Dean?" Only this time, it wasn't quite as loud and seemed a bit fearful. Not fearful for himself but for Dean.

"Hang on, Sammy," Dean called to him. "We're coming."

At the very edge of the room, in the corner-most cube, they found Sam. At their sudden presence, Sam flinched, expecting anyone but his brother and cousin to appear.

"Dean? Kole?" Sam looked between them in utter confusion. "Are you guys all right? How did you get away?" Dean and Kole glanced at one another uncertainly.

All three fell silent when they heard a far-off growling, rumbling sound. It started out low but grew as it moved towards them. As it got closer, there was an accompanying metallic scraping sound.

"We're not the ones who're trapped in a cage, Sammy," Dean told him, distracted by quickly looking the area over. There was nothing on the walls or floor other than the cage. He started patting himself down, swiftly checking his own pockets. "Where is my lock-pick set?" He said out loud to himself.

"I think I've still got it," Sam told him.

"Think?"

"Well, I still feel kind of numb – I was knocked out when I was brought in here. I have no idea if I still have any of my weapons or tools."

Dean tried reaching through the bars to check Sam's jacket but he was just out of reach, and Sam couldn't move any closer.

"Let me try," Kole piped in and sat down on the floor, reaching her arm through the bars.

"My arms are longer than yours," Dean said, somewhat indignantly. "If I couldn't reach, I doubt you can."

"Yeah, well," Kole said as she fit her shoulder in between the bars and stretched her fingers out to reach Sam's pocket, "You're arms are longer, but mine are thinner… Popeye." She was able to knock the little vinyl case from the pocket and Sam kicked it over to Dean, who reached into the cage and grabbed it.

"I'll take that as a compliment to my muscle tone, thank you very much," he said with a smirk. Then, he handed her a large knife, the 'security' blade that his usually kept under his pillow. "Climb up," he motioned with his head to the top of the cage, "and work on cutting that rope away while I get this thing open. I don't really want to meet whatever it is making that noise if we don't have to."

Had the situation allowed it, Sam might have taunted his brother about how he seemed to be rubbing off on Dean. Sam's research-and-review style of hunting was definitely leaching through to Dean's why-wait, annihilate system. But, this wasn't the time.

"Got it," Kole said seconds before Sam felt his arms feebly fall to his sides.

"Me too," Dean answered as the cage door swung open. As Kole climbed off of the cage, Dean reached in and helped Sam crawl out. Luckily, Sam's legs were gaining feeling quicker than his arms because the three of them took off out of the cubicle at a sprint.

The roaring and snarling and scratching thing sounded as if it were in the next aisle. And gaining on them.

"I hope this door isn't locked, too," Sam panted.

The thought hadn't even occurred to Dean. He pushed himself to run faster to make sure they made it to and through the door before whatever it was, that huge loud thing chasing them, could catch up.

Seeing the door, the short and narrow door, he reached out and grabbed the handle to keep from passing by it before he could stop. He tried the knob and, when it turned with ease, he let out a lungful of air.

Sam got to the door next and had to turn sideways and duck down just to fit. Kole could stand up straight, but had to turn as well. As their predator's shadow became visible just two cubes away, Dean threw himself through the door and slammed it shut. He leaned against it, trying to catch his breath along with Sam and Kole. That's when he noticed –

"It's gone," he wheezed and listened for the noise, any noise. But there was nothing. "How could it just stop?" He reached for the doorknob, his over-active curiosity getting the better of him, and tried to turn it. The door was locked.

* * *

Traumatophobia: the fear of injury


	7. Coulrophobia

**Spoilers:** slight reference to an event in 'Phantom Traveler'

I have re-added a 'deleted scene' in this chapter after I originally posted it without (thinking that it dragged out the scene and could be left out without problem). I had a couple of reviewers tell me I shouldn't have cut it so, taking their advice, I have put it back. I hope the everything still flows all right.

**

* * *

**

Coulrophobia

_- Floor 3, part 1 -_

oo0oo

"So, wait," Sam said through panting breaths, "I heard you, both of you, screaming-

"Hey," Dean interrupted, "I don't scream."

"Fine, _yelling_, whatever," Sam rolled his eyes and stood upright. "I heard you both! When I was in that cage, I could hear you both scr- yelling in pain."

"Well," Dean walked around his brother and started climbing the stairs, "you said you had been knocked out. Maybe you were having one of your nightmares."

"No, I was awake," Sam muttered under his breath, following his brother. "And, I know what I heard."

Luckily, this stairway was not nearly as disorienting to Sam as the last had been. In fact, this one was quite cheerful. Well, maybe not cheerful, but it was certainly colorful.

Each of the steps leading up to the third floor was a different color of the rainbow and lit up from the inside when stepped on. The walls were striped in various colors and unevenly polka-dotted with soft, round lights. Weaving around the lights on the left-hand side were large and curvy letters.

_

* * *

_

Laugh at your friends, and if your friends are sore;

_So much the better, you may laugh the more._

* * *

Sam read out loud as he climbed the stairs. 

"Hmmm," Kole murmured as she caught up. "I never would have figured these guys for Pope fans."

"What?" both Winchesters turned and asked.

"Alexander Pope," she told them as if it were obvious. "You know, _Fools rush in where angels fear to tread_." Dean still looked at her as if she was crazy, but something like recognition passed over Sam's face.

"And, _To err is human, to forgive, divine_. Same guy, right?" Fleeting memories of Jess working on a paper for her Literature class floated through his mind.

"Very good," Kole smiled and gave him a nod. Dean rolled his eyes.

"OK, Professor," he said, looking at Kole. Then, he turned to his brother, "and Mary Ann. Are we ready to do this?"

"Yeah," Sam told him after a quick glare. He took a calming breath, mentally and physically preparing himself while Dean opened the large teal and violet checkered door.

Kole was about to answer as well but, as Dean unlatched the door and allowed it to swing open, her voice caught in her throat. Her eyes widened and she felt her body go cold at the sight before her.

"Clowns?" Dean said with laugh of disbelief. "So, I take it this is the easy floor." He strolled into the room, looking around with a large grin on his face. The large room was filled with life-size clown statues in a variety of shapes and poses, all with brightly painted faces and silly outfits. Some were smiling and some were frowning; some held out balloon animals and some were situated on unicycles; some were even in mid-acrobatic rolls.

Sam walked in a step or two behind his brother. He, too, was relieved that this floor seemed designed to entertain rather than scare, pausing to look at a clown magician with a rabbit pulled halfway out of a large yellow and red top hat. Then, he realized that there was no one next to or behind him, and turned to see Kole still frozen in the doorway.

"Kole?" he called. Dean turned around at Sam's voice.

"Oh don't tell me," he said with a smirk. "You're not really… I thought that was another urban legend. I never believed there were actually people _afraid_ of clowns!" He couldn't help but laugh.

"Dean," his brother reprimanded. He walked back to his cousin and took her hand in his; trying to guide her into the room the way a parent would with a toddler. Giving her icy, trembling hand a soothing squeeze, he smiled. "It's all right."

"Oh, for God's sake," Dean said and rolled his eyes. "What are you afraid of? They're not even real. And, they're… clowns." Sam gave him another reproving look. Dean shrugged at him.

"Look," she said, her voice was small and held none of her natural confidence, "I know it's irrational. I know that. But, that doesn't change the fact that… clowns," she said the word as if it left a bad taste in her mouth, "are just… just…"

"It's all right," Sam told her again and gently pulled her forward.

Dean marched ahead with Sam and Kole not far behind. Sam felt a little guilty about it, as his cousin seemed terrified, but he couldn't keep the smile from his lips or eyes as he looked around the large room. The closest he had ever come to a circus was when a few clowns had come to one of the many grade schools he had attended. His classmates had talked about their own personal circus experiences for the next couple weeks, and Sam devoured them all like cotton candy and snow cones.

_This is a happy little ditty  
I know the music isn't pretty  
You know the words are not so witty  
Anyone can sing this song_

"What is that?" Dean asked as he stopped abruptly and looked around. Sam and Kole nearly ran into his back and Dean spun around when he noticed the faint singing was coming from Kole.

"Sorry," Kole stammered, "It's just a… a nervous habit. I can't help it. I mean, it looks like Barnum and Bailey vomited all three rings in here, with a dash of Ringling Brothers and Cirque du Soleil on the side."

"That's a lovely image," Dean mocked. "What I meant was, what were you singing?"

"Shirley Temple," she told him quietly. "When I was growing up, the neighbor that used to sit for me watched Shirley Temple movies almost non-stop."

Dean rolled his eyes at her and shook his head.

"And what you like me to do, Dean?" Kole asked with spite, irritation finally one-upping her anxiety. "Start whistling Metallica?"

Dean flinched slightly then turned glowering eyes on his brother. Sam shook his head – he had never told her about Dean's panic-induced humming.

"Anything's better than Shirley Temple," he growled and turned around, starting to move forward again. She glared at his back, then smirked and began singing again loud enough to clearly be heard.

"_I think I'll go for a walk outside now. The summer sun's calling my name; I hear it now_."

Sam couldn't help but laugh out loud, knowing that not even Marcia's long blonde hair or short skirts had ever lured Dean into watching _The Brady Bunch_. Of course, it had been one of Jess's favorite shows and he watched marathon broadcasts with her on many a rainy afternoon. So, just to watch his brother's torment, he sang along. Hey, what are little brothers for?

"_I just can't stay inside all day. I've got to get out, gimme some of those rays_."

"OK, OK," Dean said through clenched teeth, "there is something worse than Shirley Temple."

* * *

Kole: _Everybody's smiling_

Sam: _Sunshine day_

Kole: _Everybody's laughing_

Sam: _Sunshine day_

Together: _Everybody seems so happy today in the sunshine day_

* * *

"You guys suck," Dean grumbled. 

They stopped singing only because it was hard to sing and laugh at the same time.

"So," Dean said with a smirk while trying to avoid a second verse, "did you see IT when you were too young or something?"

"See what?" Sam asked, not following his brother's train of thought.

"IT!"

"He's talking about the movie based on the Steven King story," Kole explained to Sam. "And, no, I didn't have a problem with IT. I mean, first of all, there was nothing phony about Pennywise. The dude was evil and if you couldn't see that just by looking at him, well…" she growled a little when she noticed Dean still smirking at her.

"Second, Tim Curry is one of the coolest actors of all time."

"You're a Rocky fan, aren't you?" Sam asked, his turn to smirk at his cousin.

"Well, duh."

"Rocky?" Dean asked, his turn to be confused. "The boxer? I would've never pegged you as…" he trailed off when Sam and Kole laughed. "What?"

"Wrong movie," Sam told him, then turned to Kole again. "So, did you ever go to a show?"

"Once again, duh."

"Who were you? Columbia?"

"Magenta," she said with a smile. "Had the tattered maid's costume and all. And," she said appraising him, "I'm guessing you were a Brad."

Sam felt himself blush a little, but couldn't help smiling at the memory of Jess as Janet.

"OK," Dean said, getting annoyed at having no idea what they were talking about. He hated being left out of conversations. "So what was it? Bad circus experience? Drunk clown trying to entertain at one of your little friend's birthday parties? Some other movie that rubbed you the wrong way?"

Yeah, that was it. Dean noticed the flinch.

"What was it?" he asked again, smirk back in place.

"klrklnsfrmotrspac," Kole mumbled and rolled her eyes.

"What?" Dean and Sam asked at once.

"Killer Klowns from Outer Space, OK? Everyone else thought it was so funny. That movie was the creepiest thing I have ever seen!"

"Wait a minute," Dean said between guffaws, "there is actually… a movie called…"

"Yes, there is," Kole told them in a huff. "It's a B-movie where aliens, that look like clowns, come to earth and kill people. I mean, the police chief as a puppet and drinking blood through crazy straws out of cotton candy cocoons… And all with great big smiles painted on their faces to hide their true evil nature. Creepiest-Movie-Ever."

"I… don't even know… how to respond to that," Sam told her. Dean was standing next to him doubled over in amusement.

"Look, we all have our own hang-ups," she said with strained patience. "I just believe that you should never trust a room full of clowns."

o0o

The three of them had been walking in silence for a ways, weaving around the multitude of clowns, when something caught Sam's attention. As he turned for a closer look, he unconsciously let go of Kole's hand and took a step to his right.

"Sammy?" When Sam took a couple more steps, paying no attention to him, Dean tried again. "What's up, Sammy?" He followed a few paces. He wasn't about to let his little brother wander off to get abducted again.

"I saw something… move," Sam replied, still gazing towards the spot.

"That's not funny, Sam," Kole was instantly only an arm's length away from Dean.

"No, really," Sam said. He looked back at his brother and cousin and nodded his head to the right, silently telling them to follow him. "I know I saw something move."

They walked to a particularly dense patch of jesters and jokers, all of them seemed to be moving.

"They're animatronic," Dean said in wonder, "like those singing animals from that kids' pizza place." Sam raised his eyebrows at his brother. "What? There're commercials on TV for it all the time."

"Yeah," Sam said, "we've all seen the commercials, Dean. I'm just amazed that you used the word 'animatronic'. And, correctly."

"Shut up," Dean grumbled.

The outer edge of figures were waving and generally moving in the tell-tale jerky motions of automated figures, but the movement became more and more fluid as they made their way to the center.

"OK," Sam said as he backed away from a jester juggling four bowling pins like a pro, "yeah, this is a little creepy. We should keep moving."

They started to move towards the exit again, but the further they got the thicker the clown-crowd became. They began having trouble getting through the fray.

"This is ridiculous," Dean said and shoved into a statue next to him. Like dominoes, seven clowns went down.

"Dean," Sam griped as he made his way over the fallen figures, "some of these are broken."

"So," Dean said incredulously, "are we worried now about pissing off the evil haunted house caretakers?"

"Umm, Dean?" Sam backed up and stood next to his brother. Dean followed his gaze to a pile of clowns, many of which now sported cracked or broken off noses, fingers, and arms. Then he noticed something strange about the sixth of the seven figures. Nothing on this clown was chipped or smashed, but there was a long gash in its cheek. Though there was no blood spilling from the cut, it was obvious that this clown was once a living human.

Dean was about to respond but was cut off by a scream. Both Winchesters spun around to find that Kole was no longer behind them.

* * *

Coulrophobia: the fear of clowns

PS- if you are curious, the discussion of IT, Rocky Horror, and Killer Klowns was the scene that had been deleted in the original posting.


	8. Automatonophobia

**Automatonophobia**

_- Floor 3, part 2 -_

oo0oo

Kole couldn't help the shudder that ran through her body as the three of them made their way out of the animatronic jester troupe. There wasn't much that she was afraid of in this world, and it was a good thing too since she had seen some pretty terrifying things in the past few months with the Winchesters. But, everyone has their own irrational fears. Maybe hers seemed more irrational than most – after all, going to sleep or driving a car was not a fear a lot of people had in this country – but clowns? Well, there was nothing that could convince her that that phobia was unreasonable.

The crowd of clowns, motionless and moving alike, was getting more compact as they made their way to the center of the room. Soon, they were nearly climbing over and around them to get through.

"This is ridiculous," she heard Dean say just as an arm slid around her waist, trapping her own arms at her sides, and a large gloved hand reached up and covered her mouth. She gasped, but the sound was lost amid the crashing of clown statues, as she was yanked off of her feet and pulled away.

Kole couldn't move her arms to fight off her captor and couldn't connect her kicks to either his legs or any of the statues around them. As a last resort, she shook her head violently and, when she was finally able to open her mouth, she bit as hard as she could into one of the white-gloved fingers.

Her captor promptly dropped her to the ground and cradled his hand while cursing. She tried rolling away and screaming for help, but both efforts were thwarted as she collided with another live clown who shoved a strip of duct tape over her mouth before she could yell out any more than 'HE-'.

Between the two large jokers, they made quick work of tying her feet together and her hands behind her back. Then, one of them lifted her up and hauled her over his shoulder as if she were nothing more than a bag full of dirty laundry. As they made their way through the crowd, Kole attempted to see where they were taking her. Unfortunately, this was impossible as the way she was being carried caused her dark thick hair to fall into her face, rendering her blind.

---

"Dean, some of these are broken," Sam scolded his brother as he walked through a broken pile of clown statues. To be honest, he really didn't care. After that last floor, Sam would be perfectly content to leave now and simply burn the place down. Well, that is, of course, unless there really are missing people in here.

"So. Are we worried now about pissing off the evil haunted house caretakers?" Sam didn't have to look at him to know Dean's eyebrows were raised in disbelief. But, he also knew his brother. There was no amount of denial that would convince Sam that Dean didn't get a little gratification out of his act of destruction.

And, to tell the truth, as Sam looked down at the wreckage, there was a strange sort of satisfaction running through him as well. In fact, he considered copying his brother's actions; only, something registered in his mind before he had the chance.

"Umm," Sam backed up and stood next to his brother, "Dean?"

Dean followed his gaze, and Sam could see that he was also following his thoughts. Out of the seven ruined figures in front of them, only one of them remained more or less in tact. More, because it was not chipped or broken; less, because the wound on the clown's face shouted one thing: this clown was human.

One of the flying pieces of debris had obviously marred the cheek of the human clown, but no blood dripped from the deep wound. Which meant that the blood was not flowing. Which meant that this human clown was not alive.

Dean opened his mouth, not really knowing what to say, but feeling he needed to say something. But, before anything came to mind, the boys heard a scream. An interrupted cry for help. Both Winchesters spun on the spot and were greeted with nothing but more clowns. Their cousin was no longer behind them.

The boys began running in what they hoped was the right direction. After reaching a small clearing in the clown forest, they stopped and looked around.

"She was right behind me," Sam said. "How could she just have vanished?"

"What?" Dean studied his surroundings, trying to find the trail. "You mean, like the way you seemed to have just vanished? Yeah, it doesn't make sense."

"You know what I mean."

"Of course," Dean said as he walked up to a statue, "I mean, it's not like she's a foot shorter than you or anything. How could she possibly disappear… I think they went this way." He started off carefully in a path towards the very center of the room.

"Do you hear that?" Sam asked as he followed his brother.

"Yeah. What is that?"

"It's calliope music. Circus music," Sam told him. "I think you're right."

"About what?"

"This is the right way," Sam said ominously. "The music is getting louder the closer we get."

"Ah, and is that your prophetic opinion?"

Seeing movement in the distance, Dean and Sam fell quiet. They each crouched down, finally feeling a little of the equanimity that came with being back in their element as hunters. They instantly fell into the easy pattern of stalk and study, moving silently and unseen.

The movement that they had noticed did not come from an animatronic character. The strides taken and gestures made by the tall clown they were watching were smooth and stilted all at once, the way a live human would walk and retrace steps.

But, they didn't see Kole.

They followed the clown further on, stopping only when he passed through an opening in a large partition that set a circle in the center of the room off from the rest. As they got closer, they realized what the partition was: stadium-style seating, about ten rows high. Here and there, filling some of the seats, were more dummies and mannequins of all shapes and sizes. Some were moving, some weren't.

Carefully climbing into the bleachers, rather than walking through the entry and standing out in the open, Dean and Sam looked into a circus's center ring. There was a small show going on in the heart of the haunted house. They saw jugglers, acrobats, and magicians, all in clown make-up.

"How many of them do you think are real?" Sam whispered to his brother.

"It's hard to tell with some of them," Dean whispered back. "I'm trying to see a repeating pattern in some of the more realistic-looking ones' movements."

Sam couldn't help but grin a little to himself. Dean was smarter than he let on, smarter than Sam or Dad gave him credit for, smarter than Dean gave himself credit for. Sam just needed to make sure to tell him so once they were out of this madhouse.

As he was making a mental note for himself, Sam noticed non-clown attire at the far side of the circle. There was so much brightly-colored traffic moving in front of them that he only spotted her because of her comparatively drab dark blue jeans and grey sweater.

"Dean," Sam pointed her out.

"Yeah. OK, of course she's at the opposite corner of the ring," Dean said with a sigh, and Sam decided not to point out the problem with that statement. "So…" but instead of completing the thought, Dean merely acted out his plan and began climbing through the bleachers.

When they were close enough to see her clearly, Dean and Sam had reached another opening in the partition. They looked around, once again trying to see who was real and who wasn't. Neither of them wanted to rush in, only to be taken by surprise by a supposed statue. But, there was no sign of the clown they saw earlier, which could mean that he was hiding in plain sight in the seats above them.

A loud thud and a muffled gasp brought the boys' attention back to their cousin. She was standing against a wall, looking very much like bait in a trap. She had a thick piece of duct tape over her mouth; her feet were shoulder width apart and her arms were stretched out to either side. They could see metal rings near her hands and feet, each appendage tied in place with multi-colored rope. No, not multi-colored – there were several strands, each brightly colored. They had used long, animal-sculpting balloons to hold her in place.

But, the thud is what made all three pairs of eyes grow large. Sticking out of the wall and still quivering near Kole's right hip was a gleaming, fearsome double-edged knife.

When the boys looked to see where the knife had originated, they weren't sure if it was a good or bad thing that it wasn't the live clown that threw it. The contraption might have been fascinating in other circumstances, but both brothers were slightly horrified to see an ersatz clown with an animatronic arm. The arm seemed to work like a baseball pitching machine, only with a second wheel that dug into a supply of knives and fed them to the throwing mechanism.

They watched as another knife was loaded onto the arm and then hurled. Apparently, the principle of aiming was lost on the machine because this time the knife landed to Kole's left. And this time, it didn't miss her completely. This time the knife nicked her left bicep, causing blood to begin soaking into her grey sweater.

At the sound of his cousin's muffled cry, Dean leapt into action.

"OK, Sammy, you find a way to try and shut that thing off. I'll get Kole out of there."

"Dean, what about the guy? What if he's waiting to pick us off as soon as we run out there?"

"I'm not really willing to wait for him to show himself if it means watching her get skewered." And, with that said, Dean sprinted towards Kole.

Sam took off for the demented pitching machine. It didn't take him long to reach it, but he couldn't see any switches or plugs on the thing. Another knife was loaded and flung before he could stop it.

"Dean," he shouted as quick as he could, "Look out!"

Dean turned to see the knife in mid-flight. He grabbed the closest clown doll and placed himself and it in front of Kole, using the doll as a shield. He felt the impact as the blade hit and risked a quick look at where the doll was struck.

Sam looked over at them as well and felt himself get a little lightheaded at what he saw. Had his brother, his wonderful and quick-thinking big brother, stood frozen, that knife would have hit Kole square in the face.

At that point, Sam didn't much care for turning the machine off. Instead, he found himself kicking the mechanical arm which caused the next loaded knife to be thrown in a completely perpendicular direction. Then, he kicked and hit the machine itself and didn't stop until the thing was on the ground in a jumbled heap.

At the same time, Dean grabbed one of the knives from the wall behind Kole and began severing the balloon ties around her left wrist. He was a little worried about how cold her hand felt and wasn't sure if it was due to her wound or her circulation being cut off by the tightly pulled balloons. Either way, when he had finished, her arm merely fell limp to her side.

"Kole?" he asked, trying to see her face while he bent down and got to work on the ties on her left ankle. "You OK?" Once he noticed Sam knocking the mechanical arm off balance, he tried to throw the shield-clown away without showing Kole exactly where she was almost stabbed. He finished with her left ankle and had moved to the right when Sam came running up to help.

"Kole, are you all right?" he repeated Dean's question, only Sam thought enough to pull the tape from Kole's face before he retrieved the knife from near her hip and got to work on her right wrist.

"Ouch!" she screeched, the sting of the tape was apparently enough to wake her from her daze. She reached up with her now-free left hand and quickly wiped away the one tear that had slipped down her cheek.

"Kole," Dean attempted to get her attention once more as he stood up, having finished with her ankle, "did you see where he went?"

"He?" Kole asked and began scanning the audience. "Dean, there were two of them."

"What?" Sam asked as he finished with her wrist.

"I think it was the twins," she told them, still searching the clown crowd. "From outside? Hard to tell with the make-up, but I think they looked the same underneath. And one of them had the scar. You can't hide a scar like that under make-up."

"I say we get out of here," Sam said as he grabbed Kole's right hand once more and began cautiously walking towards the partition opening that he and Dean had come through. Dean was right behind them, also keeping a watchful eye on his surroundings.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no, no, no," Kole started mumbling and shivering again. "Please tell me I'm imagining things." She shut her eyes tight as she whimpered her plea and allowed herself to be lead out of the center ring.

But, without lying, Dean and Sam could tell her no such thing. They, too, noticed that the calliope music died with their first step towards the ring exit. They also saw what had upset her. At the same time that the music ceased, all of the clowns, the audience and the performers, turned to face them with sightless eyes and painted on smiles. As they walked carefully from the circle, the heads followed them.

"Sam," Dean murmured as they stepped out of the ring only to find all of the clowns and jesters and mimes staring inanimately at them. Dean slowly passed a gun to his brother and then took one out for himself.

Kole had opened her eyes when they stopped and immediately wished she hadn't.

"Yeah," Sam whispered, and gripped Kole's hand in his left and the gun in his right. All the while, he monitored his surroundings, watching for movement.

"OK," Dean took a breath, gripped his gun in his left hand and took Kole's hand in his right. "Run!"

The three of them took off for the exit, Sam leading the train and keeping an eye out for live clowns. More than once, one of them knocked into and over a stature, but none of them stopped. Sam shot a couple of times, blowing a waving arm from an animatronic dummy. Dean shot once and thought he saw a figure fall, but he kept running.

They reached the wall, bright yellow with polka-dots in every color, where the exit should have been but the door seemed to be missing.

"What the…?" Sam started, but hearing footsteps behind him, spun himself around. He was immediately facing countless clowns. Bright red noses and big grins were all he could see. He hadn't been afraid of clowns before, but these statues were making him rethink that position.

"It has to be here," he heard Dean say, unnerved. Sam placed himself between the lifeless crowd and Dean and Kole, still watching and expecting an attack.

"Wait," he heard Kole's voice. "It's an optical illusion. One of these dots…" her voice trailed off.

Sam looked over his shoulder and saw Kole lean her head against the wall, then twist to the right and then the left.

"There!" she pointed, then placed her hand on the wall and kept the contact until she reached the doorknob. She opened the door as she turned back to face them. "Sam!"

Sam spun back towards the clowns and both he and Dean unloaded a couple shots into a unicycle-rider on a collision course with the younger Winchester. The clown fell to the ground, fragmenting on impact.

Sam took a deep breath, one that did little to calm his nerves, and walked toward the open door backward. Kole followed him. Dean took one last look around and, satisfied with the lack of activity, walked through the door then slammed it closed.

* * *

Automatonophobia: the fear of ventriloquists' dummies, animatronic creatures, and/or wax statues


	9. Iatrophobia

**Spoilers:** slight reference to an event in 'Phantom Traveler'

-----

**Iatrophobia**

_- Floor 4, part 1 -_

oo0oo

When Dean closed the door on the anti-fun house room, he noticed that there was a simple crossbar fastener on the hallway-side. Well, locking the door seemed a good idea so he slid the sturdy bar into place. After all, even if it was only a slight deterrent, it could give them the seconds they would need to take evasive or defensive action.

Turning around, he saw Sam doing his best to bandage up Kole's arm. Dean had grabbed a few first aid supplies out of the car, mostly thinking of the two boys they were supposed to be looking for. However, looking at both his brother and cousin now, and knowing there still had two floors to go, they might not have anything left to offer the boys.

Sure, Dean knew he had a couple of bumps and bruises from the undead in the grave yard, and a tender spot on his chin from the cheap shot delivered by his doppleganger. But, with the brightness of the stairway, he could plainly see the rough abrasions on his brother's wrists and he could tell that Sam had some other sore muscles by the way he was moving. Not to mention all the squinting Sam was doing – a sure sign that the kid had a monster headache, and Dean was sure that he would find a lump under his brother's shaggy hair if he checked.

But Kole was the one who had actually lost some blood. She was still sporting the scrapes on her right cheek, though they had stopped bleeding, and there was a bruise forming where the evil-Dean had hit her. Logically, Dean knew he wasn't responsible for that, but when your memory shows a clear picture of your mirror-image striking someone, whether you dealt the blow or not you feel accountable. And, he _was_ responsible for the scrapes on her face and the mess on her right shoulder.

He could see that Sam had mended her left arm as well as possible and had even gotten the bleeding to stop, but the rips and blood were still visible. Dean was struck with a strange thought: there was no way Kole was going to fix that sweater. She had sewn up some of the guys' clothing and knew how to get some nasty blood stains out, but the sweater was pretty much beyond repair. _And too bad_, he thought, _she really liked that sweater_. He shook his head to dislodge the thought – he would never admit to remembering the obscure fact that his cousin mentioned months ago about the article of clothing.

"So," Kole was the first to speak, "not that I'm complaining or anything, but this stairway seems rather average after the last two." In fact, the stairway was pretty average period. It was a simple, standard concrete set of stairs with everyday railings on either side. The walls around them were painted white, though they seemed to have dulled with age, and the area was illuminated with overhead fluorescent lighting.

"Kole," Sam sighed and gave a mock-patronizing smile, "we have learned through many, many, _many_ years of experience not to ever wish for something to be as awful as expected."

"But," Dean added, though he was serious where Sam was not, "we never assume that something is harmless just because it looks like it is."

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother. Which was fine with Dean. He could be the serious one – would be the serious one, if that's what it took to keep Sam and Kole safe. He was obviously doing a poor job of protecting them up to this point but he was ready now – ready to keep an eye on both of them and make sure that neither his brother nor his cousin would be snatched up again. Not on Dean Winchester's watch.

They reached the top of the mundane stairs to an equally ordinary door. And stood there – each looking at the door, each taking calming breaths trying to ready themselves for whatever was on the other side. Then, Sam recalled something, not something specific, but he remembered the kids at the bar talking about this level. He was passing their table as two of them were describing this floor. What was it they said? He hadn't really been paying attention to them at that point... but it was on the edge of his memory.

"Well," Dean said, taking one last long breath, "I guess it's now or never..."

He began to push the door open as it finally came to Sam what this floor held. This floor didn't embody Sam's fear of being locked in a cage or Kole's fear of clowns. This floor was for Dean.

"Dean wait," Sam tried, wanting to warn his brother, but the door was already open. He knew that Dean would never, ever admit to being afraid of anything. Sure, he had a 'problem' with certain situations. Flying, for instance, which he controlled by, well, _not_ flying (except that one time when Sam wanted to board a plane that was destined to crash).

"It looks like a waiting room," Kole said as she stepped through the doorway. It was a rather small area with uncomfortable-looking chairs haphazardly strewn around a battered old coffee table with long-outdated magazines fanned out on top. Directly across from them was a small, horizontal-sliding frosted-glass window. And to the left of that was a nondescript, wooden paneled door.

The other thing Dean had a 'problem' with was something he could not avoid, not in their line of work anyway. He would suffer through and grumble and get out as soon as possible (sometimes sooner)...

As soon as they stepped into the room and closed the stairway door, the small window opened. They couldn't see who opened it or if there was even a real person behind the frosted glass, but a nasal feminine voice called out:

_Dean Winchester, the doctor will see you now._

oo0oo

Dean could probably count on one hand how many times he had been struck speechless in his life. He was never one to be at a loss for words. Ever. He always had something to say, whether it was something important or just something inane to fill the voids in conversation. Even when he was alone, he would often find himself carrying on a one-sided conversation. There were times that he was quiet, yes, but the internal monologue was still rolling and he could easily find his voice and the right words when needed.

Right now, Dean Winchester was speechless.

And annoyed. He should have seen something like this coming. After the personalized headstones down on the first floor, he knew that there had to be someone or something _reading_ each of them to be able to create such specialized and specific phobia-inducing surroundings. Well, that was his first thought when his brain decided to reboot and start thinking again anyway.

"Dean?" Sam said quietly in that careful, concerned, sympathetic voice that whispered _I'm here for you_ and always worked when talking with victims and their families.

It was the voice that Dean accepted as a viable resource but absolutely hated to have directed at him. He looked over and saw the worried, child-like eyes of his _little_ brother. _And how such a towering individual like Sam could still look like a little boy was beyond him._

Dean was about to say something to Sam, something that would probably be angry and rude, but his attention was taken once again by the little receptionist window. Kole had, instead of being irritatingly empathetic like his brother, gone carefully up to the window for a look inside. However, as soon as she stepped in front of it, the window forcibly closed, rattling the glass inside the frame and causing her to jump backwards into one of the chairs.

"Hey..." was all the reprimand Dean could force out before the door to the left opened inward in the same fashion as the window did.

"Right this way, Mr. Winchester," came a deep male disembodied voice from somewhere beyond the door.

Dean was finally at his boiling point. He let out a huff and started marching for the door, ready to get this nonsense over with. Halfway to the door, Sam reached out and grabbed his arm, forcing his brother to turn around and face him.

"What do you think you're doing?" Sam asked, with the obvious undertone of _Are you a complete idiot? You can't go through there_ in his voice.

"I'm tired of this crap, Sammy," Dean snapped back. _I'm not afraid of this _unmistakably intermingled with healthy dose of _I'm ready to kick some ass_.

"Um, guys?" Kole said somewhat timidly, garnering both Winchesters' attention. She couldn't quite translate the looks yet, but it was quite apparent that there was a silent debate going on between the brothers. "I realize that it seems a bit ridiculous to let them lead us around like this..."

Which caused Sam to give Dean an _I told you so_ look.

"But," she continued, "that door seems to be the only way into the rest of the floor. If we want to keep going and, well, have any hope of finding those boys, we have to keep moving forward."

Causing Dean to give Sam a _back at you_ eyebrow raise and smirk.

Sam still didn't like it, but he didn't really see any way around it. He let go of Dean's arm and followed his brother to the door, pausing only to glance over at Kole and make sure she was following as well. But, the pause was enough to put a step between himself and Dean and in that short gap, the door slammed closed in Sam's face.

"Dean!" he yelled while yanking and twisting the doorknob. "Dean!"

"Sam?" was the muffled response, barely heard over the pounding of Dean's fists on the other side of the door.

Before Sam had a chance to answer, the banging stopped abruptly. Sam put his ear to the door and heard something fall heavily to the ground and then the soft rustle and scrape of something being dragged away.

No, not something. Without even seeing, Sam knew what it was.

Dean.

-----

Iatrophobia: fear of doctors or going to the doctor 


	10. Nosocomephobia

**Nosocomephobia**

_- Floor 4, part 2 -_

oo0oo

"Dean?" Sam, still with his ear pressed to the door, called out with worry. No answer. "Dean!" he yelled as be backed up and tried shouldering the door a few times. Then kicking it.

But, the door was much more solid than it appeared.

"What about the lock?" Kole asked him. "Can you pick the lock?"

In too much distress to feel foolish for not thinking of it himself, Sam began patting down his pockets to find the lock pick set. Coming up empty, he let loose a growl. Kole may not have been able to translate all of the brothers' looks and signals, but this one was pretty clear. Dean still had the set.

Sam yelled for his brother one more time and then began throwing his body into the door again. Kole moved to the little receptionist window. She thought it would easily open, but they couldn't be so lucky. However, it was just a window – just glass. Kole looked around and found a chair, small enough to lift and swing simply, but sturdy enough for the job.

"What are you-" Sam started to ask when he noticed Kole picking up the chair, but stopped when her plan was obvious, when she practically threw the chair into the window and it shattered.

She grabbed one of the magazines from the table, rolled it up, and began trying to break away any remaining glass from the frame. Sam quickly grabbed a magazine of his own and joined the effort. It wasn't until the glass was nearly gone that Sam realized they had a problem.

"Um, I'm not going to be able to fit through there. It's too narrow. I mean, maybe if I could angle..." Sam said, contemplating the small window. No, it just wouldn't work. His thoughts were interrupted by Kole returning – though he hadn't realized she had left his side until she joined him again – and placing a few more open magazines over the bottom of the window frame.

"Maybe not," she told him, "but I will." And with that, she stepped up onto the same chair she had used to break the glass and looked slowly and carefully into the reception area.

"No," Sam said, grabbing her arm before she could disappear as well. "No, you can't go through there by yourself."

"Sam," her voice reasonable yet slightly rushed, "there seems to be only two ways to move forward. One is the door, which doesn't seem willing to open. The other is through this window, which you have already stated you can't get through. I'm really not seeing another option here."

"But-"

"No, Sam, listen. I'll go through and see if I can unlock the door from the other side. I mean, the window and the door are only a couple feet apart. You can look through the window and see me the whole time if it makes you feel any better."

"I just don't like the idea of splitting up. It's bad enough that they have Dean, but why let them divide and conquer even further?"

Sam, of course, could see the logic at play. However, that didn't mean he had to like it. And, he did trust Kole's judgment – that was a given. But she was still rather new to this lifestyle and, though she was older than him, he still looked at her like a little sister. After all, what was chronological age to a Winchester? It was years of hunting that mattered. And, if Sam had learned anything from being raised under the watchful eye of Dean Winchester, it was that big brothers are protective to a fault.

During one of their longer cross-country treks, Sam had let his mind wander to how similar things were now to when he was growing up. It was almost like the Winchester trio again, minus the heated arguments – arguments, yes, but they were nothing more than minor disputes. Dean had taken up the role of patriarch, more or less the commander-in-chief. However, unlike his predecessor, Dean was less need-to-know and more about keeping everyone informed and, therefore, prepared.

Kole had relieved Sam of much of his researching duties. What information had escaped her almost-photographic memory, she had stored and ready on numerous discs. And Sam had become somewhat of a middle-man, often translating Kole's book smarts and Dean's street smarts for the other. In Sam's mind, it worked better than the team under John Winchester's command had for the simple fact that they were equals playing their specific parts rather than a wide-spread hierarchy.

A quick thumping noise from the other side of the door brought Sam back to himself. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he realized that his cousin was no longer standing in front of him. Another thump made him turn to the door again.

"Kole?" he said, slightly softer than a typical conversational level. No point revealing her whereabouts to the enemy. He heard another thump before she answered.

"Just a second, Sam. I've almost..." thump "got it." Thump.

Sam stepped back from the door. He couldn't believe she went through the window without – _what?_ - asking him? Right. Dean had told him before how much Sam and their dad were alike. Now, as the new middle-man, he could see how much Dean and Kole were alike – no matter how much they tried to deny it. And Dean would, of course, use Sam's temporary distraction to do what he deemed necessary whether Sam liked it or not. And so would Kole.

The thumping noise had stopped. Sam watched the door and waited with as much patience as he could muster. However, his patience evaporated quickly. He was about to run at the door (and start panicking again) when he heard Kole on the other side.

"Sam, I can't open it from this side. Try pushing on it again from yours."

Short of picking the lock, something which Kole had only been able to do once with the boys' tutelage, Sam wasn't sure what would make this time different from the last hundred times he tried to break down the door. But it wasn't as if they had a lot of options, so Sam took a couple more steps away from the door, took a deep breath, and shoulder-rushed the door.

He, of course, was prepared for the door to give no small amount of resistance. However, it snapped open rather easily and both it and Sam came tumbling down.

"Geez, Sam," Kole said, concern and humor at war on her face, "I was looking for a little more Prince Adam and a little less He-Man."

Still slightly stunned, Sam looked up at his cousin noting that she was holding a metal ruler in one hand a battered stapler in the other. All he could manage as he started to rise from the door – which Kole was luckily not standing behind – were a few incoherent sounds of confusion.

"I said push," she told him, dropping her office supplies and giving him a hand up, "not use yourself at a battering ram."

"What did you do?" he asked, still a little disoriented, as he looked down at the discarded objects.

"Oh, well, I figured since I have not yet passed the Winchester lock-picking course, I'd attack the other side. I took the pins out of the hinges. The bottom one was pretty easy, but the top one gave me some trouble." She looked at the ruler and stapler and then back at Sam, giving a little shrug. "I just used the tools I was given."

He was still a little upset – well, more at himself than at her – that she went through that window. Alone. And unprotected. But, Sam couldn't help the swell of pride he was feeling. He'd only ever been on the student side before; this was the first time he'd seen things from the teacher side. It felt good to know he had a hand in her accomplishment (sure, it was common sense more than anything else, but using the window and taking out the pins seemed a very Winchester thing to do!). A+ to the (ex)professor.

oo0oo

Dean was well-acquainted with the act of regaining consciousness. So far, there seemed to be two ways to go about it. One was to awaken suddenly with a gasping breath and almost full alertness. The other and more preferable way (as it was less likely to come with the massive headache that the first does after a moment's pause while the waking world catches up to you) is to slowly regain your senses and wake up (often in the hospital) groggy but more or less intact.

But this was completely different.

Dean didn't have a clear-cut picture of what had happened, but he was able to produce the memories without too much trouble. He and Sam and Kole had entered the floor by way of a waiting room. His name was called – twice – and he walked through the door to the rest of the floor. The door snapped shut as soon as he was through, somehow completely missing him on the way.

He could remember turning and trying to open the door again. After all, he had just promised himself that he would take better care of his brother and cousin, and how could he do that when he couldn't see them? And, because he was busy trying to open the door and cursing himself, he apparently missed the fact that someone was creeping up on him.

Dean could still feel the spot on the right side of his neck where he was stabbed with a (what he hoped was clean) syringe. The needle was barely in his skin when his assailant quickly pushed the plunger and emptied the contents into his system. He didn't even have time to reach up and grasp the spot out of instinct before the serum invaded his body and deactivated his muscles. Including his eyelids, which fell closed as he felt himself crumble under his own weight.

He had the vaguest sense of being caught and the faint sensation of being pulled along, but his body was so numb that he could have been falling down a flight of stairs and not realized it. But the sound of Sammy yelling his name and pounding on the unyielding door was clear as crystal.

Dean couldn't see or feel anything, but his remaining senses stayed on high alert. Taste was useless, but he could hear shuffling feet and squeaky wheels and loudspeaker interference all around him. And worse, he could smell the too-sterilized odor of disinfectant, the overly sweet smell of dying flowers and aging people, and the very familiar scent of a lot of blood on the wrong side of the body.

Yep, if he had any doubts after stepping into the waiting room earlier, they were now thoroughly stamped out. He was in a hospital.

_Great. A hospital. It just had to be a hospital..._

But he quickly decided to stop feeling sorry for himself. He had to find a way to get his body to cooperate again. He had to get to Sam and Kole and make sure they were all right. He had to... did his eyelids just flutter? Yes, definitely a flutter! It was working.

"Ah," a deep voice filled with mock-kindness began, "I see the patient is starting to come around."

Dean could hear murmurs and whispers and a couple of giggles coming from behind him. He put all of his effort into opening his eyes – that was the first step. Once that was accomplished, he looked around. He was sitting, well reclining, in a chair now and seemed to be in an examining room.

"Now class," the same deep voice continued, "who can tell me the definition of Traumatology?" The doctor was now within Dean's eye-line but was facing the opposite direction. Dean could hear metal softly clinking against metal, but could not see around the doctor to determine the source.

"Traumatology," a younger male voice began reciting from behind Dean, "is the study of wounds and injuries caused by accidents or violence to a person, and the surgical therapy and repair of the damage."

"Very good," the instructing doctor said just as Dean was thinking the complete opposite. The man, still without turning around, motioned for the class to join him. As six younger people walked into Dean's line of sight and up to the instructor, Dean was sure he heard what sounded like a fond: _now, choose your weapons_.

Six hands reached forward and grabbed small metallic instruments. There was a collective sigh and the small group of people turned to face him, each in surgical masks and full scrubs. As they circle around him with sinister smiles in their eyes, Dean realized that now might not be the time to worry about how his brother and cousin were faring.

* * *

Nosocomephobia: fear of hospitals 


	11. Tomophobia

**Spoilers:** slight references to events in 'The Benders'

* * *

**Tomophobia**

_- Floor 4, part 3 -_

oo0oo

"So," Kole said out of the blue, "I've been thinking..."

"Thinking?"

"Yeah, it's just this thing I do every so often when I get bored," she told him sarcastically. "You know – it passes the time."

Sam mumbled an apology. He hadn't meant to sound as incredulous as he had but, honestly, all that kept running through his head was _Gotta find Dean! Gotta find Dean! Gotta find Dean!_ He supposed that, if they were going to find his brother and get out of this house of horrors, he'd better start thinking too.

However, it was kind of hard to get your bearings when every new floor transported you into an entirely different setting. Every new environment that they entered was so real... it was surreal. Sam was beginning to feel as if he was on some sort of perverse day tour, a wicked whirlwind of all the tourist traps – the pun, apparently, intended. A cemetery, a torture chamber, and a circus all for the low price of one ticket into this melanic manor.

And now they were in a hospital. And if anyone could spot the flaw in a hospital-disguise, it was a Winchester. John and Dean and Sam had spent enough time in the emergency rooms of countless medical buildings to know all the tell-tale signs. And, if someone was just putting on a show, they would be the ones who could see right through it. But, as far as Sam could see, this was indeed a hospital.

Actually, there was something missing: _people_. Sure, Sam and Kole could hear movement in the hallways and far off elevator bells, there were coughs and sneezes and moans coming from several of the rooms they passed, and there were constant announcements and codes being fired off from unseen loudspeakers... but there were no other people. It was a bit creepy.

"So," Kole began again, "do you have any theories on what it is we're dealing with?"

"To be honest," Sam said humbly, "I've been a little distracted since we got here. I guess I haven't really taken the time to theorize."

"Egregore?"

If Sam had not been used to Kole's seemingly non-sequitur (and often incomprehensible) sounding remarks, he may have been at a total loss. However, he knew that, when talking of research and studies, she was very serious and every word could be assumed to have meaning. But, this term stumped Sam. And, he was a big enough person to admit it.

"Huh?"

"An egregore," Kole, falling so easily back into professor mode, said, "is a sort of manifest thought form. An egregore is to the western occultist what a tulpa is to the Tibetan mystic-"

"Tulpa?"

"Yes, a tulpa is-"

"No," Sam said quickly, "no I know what a tulpa is. Do you really think this is... that?"

"Well, it's hard to say. In all the stories I've read, an egregore takes the shape of a person. If I had to name the form in question here, it would be the building itself."

"So, you think it's the building and not the caretakers that are in control?"

"Well, no not exactly," Kole less assertive in her theory. "See, that's where it gets tough. I mean, what if the house is the _product_ of the caretakers – not that they simply went to the neighborhood Halloween shop and bought as many props as possible. What if, instead of some human or animal type figure, they brought this _place_ into being. I'm... I'm not explaining myself very well, am I?"

"No, I get what you're saying," Sam reassured her. "Instead of those guys concentrating on creating a person, they made themselves a 'haunted house'."

"And," Kole continued on, "whether they got the idea from the urban legend..."

"Or maybe they've been doing this for a long time," Sam finished. "Maybe no one can ever locate the haunted house of legend because it is constantly moving. If these guys can visualize all this and simply bring it into being with their minds, it would be easy to move around and start fresh before anyone suspects anything.

"But why?"

"It's a symbiotic relationship," Kole told him. "An egregore depends on people to create it, but it thrives on negative psychic energy. Basically, it gets its sustenance from fear and other negative emotions."

"And what do the creators get?" Sam asked.

"I don't know."

"Well," Sam said, "maybe when we find that out, we'll be closer to determining how to stop it."

oo0oo

"Now class," the instructor said as he walked up next to Dean and laid a cold hand on his shoulder, "can anyone name a factor in the assessment of wounds?"

"The nature of the wound," one of the students, an eager young woman stepped forward, "whether it is a laceration, abrasion, bruise, or burn."

"Very good," the instructor said with praise. Then, he quickly sunk his scalpel just under Dean's left collar bone, right between his neck and shoulder.

Dean's body instinctively arched and his limbs flinched, but were mostly stopped by restraints on both of his wrists and ankles. He also let out a growl, but it was barely audible as the muscle relaxant he had been injected with was not completely out of his system.

"I think we'd better get some of these bonds tightened before the patient hurts himself," the instructor told the class. A few of the students immediately rushed forward and maneuvered the straps until Dean was held fast without a fraction of motility. Then, one of the students strapped his chest down and then his forehead. While the students were working, the instructor had taken out a pair of scissors and into Dean's shirt so that the students could examine the wound.

"Now, that's better," the man said, and though Dean couldn't see his mouth, he knew the man was smiling. "You should feel honored Mr. Winchester. After all, you are assisting in the education of these fine young people."

"Excuse me, Dr. Szell" Dean whispered, as that was the top volume of his voice, between pants, "but I was never big on school spirit."

There was another smile in the doctor's eyes as he placed his hand back on Dean's injured should and gave it a squeeze, causing more blood to flow and Dean to clench his teeth.

"Now then," the man said, turning to the class to move on with the lesson, "who can tell me the nature of this wound?"

"Its a laceration," another girl, with a baby voice that sounded somewhat familiar to Dean, said. "Or more specifically, an incision, as it's a clean, regular wound."

"And a burn," a male, whose voice also seemed familiar, said as he came closer to inspect the area.

"What?" the instructor asked.

"Here, you see? There's a burn as well as an open wound."

The instructor let out a snarl and the student quickly stepped back with the rest of the class. Then, turning to Dean once more, he glared and stabbed his scalpel into Dean's hip just above the pelvis. Before pulling the instrument away, he dragged it through the skin, making the incision nearly an inch in length.

"Well, I hope that you won't be making a mockery of this lesson again," the doctor said in a harsh whisper. "I don't appreciate the attempt to confuse my students by displaying two different types of injuries in one location."

The doctor glared at Dean for a few more seconds while he addressed the class once again.

"Another factor," it wasn't stated as a question, but one of the students answered anyway.

"The size of the wound," said a young male student, "in length, width, and depth."

"And lastly?" the doctor asked.

"The extent of the overall area of tissue damage," said the same student who noticed Dean's burn.

"Excellent."

oo0oo

"We're almost at the end, aren't we?" Sam asked, as he turned back to look over his shoulder for confirmation – not that there was any. He was starting to panic. "I haven't heard him... and most of these doors have been open... we looked in all of them and even the ones that were closed... what if we don't - "

"Sam," Kole softly interrupted, "all of these doors have been numbered, right?"

"Yeah," Sam shook his head, not really in the mood to try and follow her train of thought. "But they haven't exactly gone in order. They seem to be all over the place."

"OK, but they've each been four digits, right?"

"Yes," Sam snapped, rapidly losing patience.

"Dean's in there," Kole calmly told him, pointing to a door across the hall marked 101.

"What?" his eyes grew wide and he looked back and forth between his cousin and the door. He quietly stepped to the door and leaned in to try and hear anyone inside. "I don't hear anyone. I don't hear anything in there at all," he whispered. "What makes you so sure this is the right door?"

"Orwell," she said, as if that should explain everything. "These guys are strangely literary."

Sam shook his head again. His headache was back in full force and he didn't even want to ask what she was talking about. Listening at the door once more, Sam made sure there was no one moving inside the room. He assumed that if Dean _was_ inside, the door would be locked and bolted and barricaded, but he tried the knob anyway. And to his surprise, it opened.

Sam took a tentative step into the dark room. He could only see as far as the intruding light reached inside from the hallway. From what he could detect, this was not another patient's room. It was more the sort for examination. He could see a sturdy chair in front of him facing the opposite direction.

As his eyes began to adjust, Sam could see a cushion at the top of the chair. No, not a cushion, as it seemed to be furry. And then Sam realized, just as Kole came in behind him with her flashlight on, that what he could see was hair.

"Dean!" he let out, barely louder than a whisper. He ran the short distance to the chair and spun it around, still cautious of a trick (Sam was not one to fall for such a deception twice), but was greeted by the sight of his brother.

Well, not exactly greeted, as his big brother was unconscious.

"Oh man," Sam muttered, checked (prayed) for a pulse, and then began loosening the ties that held Dean in place. He noticed that his hands were met with the occasional wet, sticky spots but he tried not to think about it as he released his brother. _Come on Dean... Wake up... Stay with me..._ and other such phrases came out of Sam's mouth, but did nothing to rouse his unconscious brother, who slumped forward into Sam's arms as the last strap was released.

Kole could hear a voice on the PA system announcing a _code black – patient abduction – room 101_.

"Uh, Sam..." but Sam was too involved with Dean to notice anything else. _This is so not good_, she thought.

Looking through the still-open doorway, Kole saw a wheelchair across the hall. She ran out to grab it but was intercepted by a young woman in surgical scrubs and mask. As they both struggled for the chair, the medic lost her mask.

"Marcy?" Kole was shocked to see the timid girl who had started this all – the same girl that had asked them for the time when they were in the bar.

Marcy sneered, pulled a syringe from her pocket, and swiped it at Kole. But, while Kole had been surprised to see her, she wasn't stunned for long and took advantage of Marcy releasing her hold on the wheelchair. Kole shoved the chair at her, knocking her into the wall. Then, with a strike she learned from the Winchester brothers, she kayoed Marcy before the girl had a chance to move or call out.

"Sam!" Kole cried out, nearly running into him in the doorway. She twisted the wheelchair around so that he could set Dean, who had been slung over Sam's shoulder, into it. "Come on!"

"It's all right," he told her. "I've got him."

"Well, that's all fine and good, but we're probably going to have company real soon."

For the first time, Sam looked over Kole's shoulder and saw the unconscious young woman lying on the floor. He wanted to ask but thought better of it and put Dean into the chair.

"Hey!" a young man yelled from behind them. Before Sam was able to stand upright again, Kole took the handles and began running through the hallway while pushing Dean. Sam could see three guys in scrubs and masks coming towards them. Pulling out his shotgun, Sam aimed for the middle guy and all three of them froze – its not like they could have known it was filled with rock salt.

Sam ran and quickly caught up with Kole. They found the door (which was conveniently marked with a standard hospital exit sign), pushed through it, and Sam pulled one of the footrests from the wheelchair and fit it into the door handles. He had barely finished when an undetermined number of fists began pounding on the door. Angry voices were yelling at them, but the door wouldn't budge.

* * *

Tomophobia: fear of surgical operations 


	12. Kakorrhaphiophobia

**Spoilers:** slight references to events in 'The Benders'

* * *

**Kakorrhaphiophobia**

_- Floor 5, part 1 -_

oo0oo

Dean would have liked nothing more than to tell Sam that he was all right, that he was actually conscious, and that there was nothing wrong with his hearing. But, unfortunately he wasn't able to, as that male Nurse Ratched gave him another – admittedly smaller – dose of desensitizer. It was a mixed blessing, really, as he could no longer feel the various holes in his skin or the bruises he was surely getting from his kid brother. Not that he could feel Sam slapping him in the face, but he could sure hear it. And he could hear the worry in Sam's voice as he shouted at Dean to wake up and be OK.

"Sam," Kole said as she dug into the waning supply of bandages. "We should try and get him cleaned up as much as we can while he's out."

As if finally comprehending the injuries that encompassed his brother's body, Sam took a step back to get an overall view. He soon made a face, mixing anger and disgust, as he saw that Dean seemed to now be wearing a polka-dot shirt, only the dots were growing larger and they were sticky-wet. There were almost a dozen wounds of assorted lengths and depths marring Dean's chest, arms, and a nasty looking puncture on his thigh.

There were too many curses and threats and demands flowing through Sam's brain to focus enough to express any one of them, so he took the bandages and began treating his brother's injuries. Though it was little consolation, each of the wounds seemed to be placed in such a way as to miss anything vital. Of course, many more and left untreated, Dean could still have bleed out if that was what his captors were going for.

Sam took a step back to take a deep breath, clear his head, and check his progress. Luckily, he had gotten the bleeding to stop in most places, but he still thought that a couple of the cuts could have used some of Kole's liquid stitches. And, they were now out of bandages.

Kole had stood back after handing over the sparse first aid supplies to give Sam room to both work and brood. She had found that the best medicine for the brother who was not hurt was to tend to the one that was – it was each Winchesters' way of apologizing for failing to prevent the pain in the first place. Not that either of them was ever careless, but they held onto their guilt even when it was unwarranted.

Giving Sam space was more than just allowing him optimal physical free range, it was also not standing just beyond his boundaries and staring. Kole had, therefore, taken the opportunity to try and find the door leading outside – as they had been told that each stairwell had one. When she found the door (hidden behind the staircase), she tried the knob. It didn't even turn.

Letting out a harrumph, she pulled the flashlight from her pocket to chase away the shadows in the receded area. She almost laughed – not an amused laugh, but a disturbed one – as she took in the sight before her. What had looked like a door, was nothing more than a painting on the wall, complete with an attached doorknob. It was a great likeness, especially with the assistance of the darkness.

"What's the matter?" Sam asked, hearing the slightly manic laughter.

"It's a fake," she told him as she walked back to where he still stood in front of Dean. "The door's a fake."

"The door to the next floor?"

"Oh, no," she sighed. "I'm sure that's real. I'm talking about the door out of this place. There's supposed to be one per floor for the drop outs to escape. I don't know why I thought it would be there..." saying the last part more to herself than Sam.

"Why wouldn't it be there?"

"Sam, did you see that girl- "

"The one you knocked cold, you mean?" he asked with a hint of pride – though Kole couldn't tell if it was gratification for using the skills the boys taught her or satisfaction that she had struck back at one of the people that had hurt his brother.

"Yes," she huffed. "But did you see who she was?" Sam shrugged and she continued.

"It was Marcy," she told him, to which he shrugged again. "You remember... the nice young girl who asked us for the time back at the bar?"

"That's why I knew those voices," said a rough voice behind Sam. Though it was barely a whisper, it caused both Sam and Kole to jump.

"Dean!" Sam said as he spun around and knelt to make sure he could see his brother's face, knowing full well that you couldn't take Dean's 'fine' at face value.

"Were they the kids?" Kole asked him, lowering her voice so that it didn't ring so loud in comparison to Dean's. Dean nodded his head once in reply.

"What?" Sam asked, turning to her and then back to his brother. "What are you guys talking about?"

"The kids from the bar, Sam," Kole said as if it should now be obvious.

"Wait," Sam said, trying to wrap his head around the new development. "You think the kids are a part of this?" he asked, gesturing to the stairwell around them.

"It makes sense, doesn't it? What we talked about – the egregore... It would take more than three guys to pull all of this off. Whether they started it and the others followed, or they have all worked together from the beginning – well, it really doesn't matter. An egregore often becomes greater than the sum of its parts or creators, but it still needs a certain amount of belief to get off the ground and survive..."

She was doing that thing again where she talked as quick as a high school cheer-leading captain on speed. Dean, who was now standing with assistance, and Sam tried to follow along but were getting lost.

"A what?" Dean asked, his voice was still gravelly but it was getting louder.

"Egregore – like a tulpa," Sam said out of the side of his mouth. Dean gave a low 'hmm' of comprehension, apparently fine with the brief explanation. Which was good, since Kole was still on a role.

"The egregore is in continuous interaction with its creators, influencing them and being influenced _by_ them. The more people there are in the hive mind, the larger and more powerful the egregore becomes. And, if the process has continued over a long period of time, the egregore will take on a kind of life of its own. It can get so strong that, even if its original members die, it could continue to exist if more people enter into the group for it to get energy from."

"Great," Dean said sarcastically.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Better and better."

"So how do we kill it?" Dean asked. "I mean, it doesn't sound like we can just go to the neighborhood geeks and ask them to put a bogus story about this place on their website."

"Well," Kole began again after a pause, deciding she didn't want to ask what Dean was talking about, "every egregore has some sort of physical representation, a power object used to evoke or invoke it."

"And if we destroy the object..." Dean began.

"Theoretically, we destroy the egregore," Kole finished.

"Now you're speaking my language."

"But how do we know what it is?" Sam asked. "And how do we even know its here?"

"I think we can be pretty sure its here," Kole told him. "To keep the egregore strong, proper offerings must be made."

"Offerings like kids checking out the local haunted house," Dean concluded.

"So," Sam said, "more likely than not, its on the fifth floor."

* * *

Kakorrhaphiophobia: fear of failure or defeat 


	13. Denouementophobia

**Denouementophobia**

_- Floor 5, part 2 -_

oo0oo

They started up the stairs, though at their slowest pace yet due to both injury and trepidation. They now knew that they were not merely good Samaritans helping some young and foolish people out of a jam. They had been set up, manipulated into coming here. Whether they were simply transients for a convenient sacrifice or they were known for who they are and what they do was irrelevant. It didn't change the fact that they were here.

Sam was the first to break the self-imposed silence.

"So, its been using our fears against us." 'It' because it was easier for Sam to think of the supernatural being and not the (possible) human beings involved in the scheme. "What if we just don't think about what scares us... block that stuff out... or think of something else..."

"I don't think that's the way it works here, Sammy," Dean told him. "I mean, on the first floor I was completely surprised to see, well, _myself_ there. Even after the two of you found the stones of your friend (to Kole) and Jess, I hadn't even thought about my own grave being there."

"Maybe not on purpose," Sam countered. "But maybe underneath... or in the back of your mind – you know, the part you don't use..."

"Ha ha," Dean said. "Seriously though, I don't think we'll suddenly find ourselves pitted against the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man simply because we tried to think of something that _didn't_ scare us."

Sam wanted to keep arguing, not because he thought he was right but because it kept his mind both alert and off of what might be awaiting him. The only reason he didn't continue the debate was because he heard what Dean had let slip. Dean, Mr. afraid of no-one and no-thing, just came the closest Sam had ever heard his big brother come to admitting he was scared. It was the sort of thing that Sam thought deserved a little consideration.

Finally at the top of the stairs, Dean and Sam both pulled out their shot guns and flashlights. Kole, who they still were unable to convince to _hold_ a gun much less use one, pulled out her heavy duty Mag-lite and then reached for the doorknob.

"On three," Dean whispered. Sam and Kole nodded. They each got themselves into position as Dean counted.

When he reach reached three, Kole pulled the door open and Dean and Sam did a quick scan of the room with their flashlights and guns ready. But, whatever they had been expecting, it certainly wasn't this.

The fifth floor was a large, open space – open in that it had no inner walls dividing the area into smaller rooms. There were, however, partitions and shelves and bookcases and cupboards aplenty. And every surface was covered with _stuff_. The top floor seemed to be part antique/curiosity shop, part flea market.

Dean lowered his gun and put his flashlight away, and Sam followed his lead. Kole turned her flashlight off but kept it in her hand for safe-keeping.

"So much for an easy search for the sacred object," Sam muttered as he looked around. It was true. Even if the three of them ran around and just started smashing things, it would take too long to get to the object in question – and more than likely, they would have company (or an angry haunted house) long before they even got close.

They each walked in different directions, no longer worried about splitting up since there was nowhere for one of them to be secreted away from the others. Dean wandered off to the right where there were several mismatched dressers. Opening the top drawer of the first one he came to, he found a collection of jewelry. Rummaging around the unorganized pile, he found several wedding rings (both male and female), lockets and pocket watches (many with personal inscriptions), and an assortment of all types of accessories _of_ various ages and _for_ various ages.

The next drawer was filled with handbags, wallets, coin purses, pocketbooks, and money clips. The next held belts and suspenders, hats and hair ties. The last drawer contained umbrellas, scarves, and gloves.

Dean went to the next chest of drawers and found sunglasses and reading glasses, hearing aids, retainers, handkerchiefs, and bottles of prescription and over-the-counter pills. Moving along, he found socks and stockings... and clothes. Clothes for men, women, and children alike. He may have found some of it funny – after all, it had been awhile since he'd seen leg warmers – had it not been so disturbing.

At the end of the line of dressers were four large steamer trunks. Opening the first one, Dean found a mound of shoes. They ranged in size, but they were all on the small side. What made Dean's breath catch in his throat was a pair near the top – size eleven sparkling red slip-ons that were made to look like Dorothy's ruby slippers.

Without closing the first lid, he went to the next, then the next, then the next – throwing each lid open. The second held smallish boy shoes, the third had women's shoes, and the last had men's.

He knew what he had found, though he really didn't want to admit or believe it. But, after what he and Sam had discovered on the third floor – the clown _not_ made of plaster, but flesh... All the 'sacrifices' that were brought here, all the men and women and children that didn't leave and instead were turned into part of the grotesque scenery – Dean had found the clothing and other possessions they entered the house with.

oo0oo

Kole had wandered off to the left side of the room. At this side, there were four bookcases and a large curio cabinet. The bookcases were filled – stuffed – with an odd assortment of volumes. There was classic literature with elegant leather binding and there were modern paperbacks. The books were dramas, romances, horrors, and science fiction. There were plays and poetry, non-fiction and even children's books. She also found magazines and comics.

The next bookcase was more interesting. It held yearbooks. They were of varying heights and thicknesses. And, they ranged from the 1950s to 2003. After pulling a few down from the shelf, Kole also found that they were from various cities and states.

The bottom shelves were filled with scrapbooks and photo albums. Some were simple brag books and the small photo inserts found in wallets. Some were the kind with sticky pages. Some were the sort with black and white pictures and photo corners and loopy silver writing on black pages. And some were elaborate books with sticker and stamp decorations on each page.

At the center of the display, with two large bookcases on either side, was the large curio cabinet. The bottom shelf held baskets filled with loose photos. The remaining shelves contained a dozen framed portraits and pictures. The photos were all different sizes and in all different styles of frames. Some were clear and professional, some were grainy and candid pictures taken with a cheap camera.

Kole looked closely at the people in the first frame. _Marcy_, she said to herself when she found a familiar face in the first picture. It was a nice photo of a carefree family at the beach on vacation. Marcy was sitting in between two other girls, one younger and one older – all complete with big bangs and died platinum blond hair. The three girls looked far too much alike for them _not_ to be sisters. And behind them stood a man (with Marcy's eyes and mouth) and a woman (with Marcy's coloring and body shape).

Kole reached out for the frame and, when she picked it up, she felt another photo taped to the backside. Flipping the frame over, she found another picture. There was no mother in this shot and all of the smiles now seemed forced. The father's eyes were dull and he looked as if he'd gone a few days without shaving. Marcy, who had looked so happy and healthy in the first photo, was now emaciated and her hair thinned to the point of seeing her scalp in several places.

Giving a quick study to each of the frames, Kole found the three caretakers of the haunted house, each of the kids they had met, and even their waitress from the bar. The framed photos each displayed a happy scene, while the pictures taped to the back told the story of illness and disease.

Any anger she had felt had almost (though, not completely) evaporated and was replaced with sympathy. Without looking through the medical file folders that she now noticed on the next bookshelf, she had a pretty good idea of what had happened. Each of these people – the ones who brought this egregore into being – had been struck down by some incurable disease. They were frightened and in pain.

But, as quickly as her feelings turned to sadness for them, they then turned back to ire. Yes, it was a terrible thing for these people to suffer and know that they will soon die. And it was a terrible thing for their families. However, they crossed the line when they decided that someone else's life was less important. Someone else died in each of their places. And not just someone, but many people. For this group to go on living, others had to go on dying.

The last bookcase held a variety of notebooks and bound blank-books – diaries and journals and logs. Kole sat down on the floor and pulled out one of the notebooks, flipping to the back first. _Maybe, one of them mentions what the sacred object is._

oo0oo

Sam had taken the middle path. Well, to be honest, 'path' was a rather loose term. This whole floor seemed to be what many high schoolers and college students referred to as an 'organized mess'. There were piles upon piles of... well, _stuff_. Sam was sure that there was some sort of system to it – a method to the madness – but it was only known to the creators.

He came across a table full of teacups and saucers, another with Troll dolls of every size and hair color, and yet another with binders and cigar boxes full of baseball cards. Along the row was a filing cabinet full of maps and another full of 8x10 signed glossies of celebrities. He found a trunk full of Rubik's Cubes (in various stages of being solved) and a series of nesting tables with thousand-piece puzzles in mostly-finished to finished states.

There were over a dozen tables and desks and other pieces of storage furniture filled with collections and collectibles. Sam wasn't quite sure what to make of it. It was more than just a random assortment – it seemed that each of the collections were personal and nearly complete. There was a feeling to them – something that told Sam they were special, that they all meant something. Not to everyone, but they were important to the person who brought them here.

Sam looked up and to the right, finding Dean among the junk. His brother seemed to be upset, staring down at something Sam couldn't see as he paced back and forth a bit. Dean looked up and Sam caught his eye. Without a word, Dean walked over to meet his little brother.

"The victims' stuff," he told Sam simply, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the dressers he had just come from.

Sam didn't need more of an explanation and Dean didn't want to go into detail. They both looked to the left – it took a moment before they spotted their cousin, the top of her head just visible over the tables full of trinkets.

Kole sat amidst a small pile of notebooks and diaries, skimming through the book in her hand at a rapid pace. She had ignored all but the final journals of each of the creators, hoping that one of them had recorded the vital information that they needed. So far, the search had been unsuccessful.

Dean and Sam walked to where Kole was sitting just as she tossed another book onto the top of the tumbling mound beside her. She grabbed another notebook, one of the last few left of the shelf, and flipped to the back.

"Are those journals?" Sam asked her. She didn't look up, only gave a quick nod, and kept reading.

"Anything interesting?" Dean asked. "Or important?"

"They were all dying," Kole told them, again without looking up. "They were all young and dying and scared. And desperate. They needed something to believe in and when there was nothing available, they created their own deity to save them when modern medicine failed.

"There were only a few of them at the beginning, but over the years they added more members. Their offerings started out as their most prized possessions, but it wasn't enough. And, instead of going back to a life of misery until death, they gave Saludeterna what it asked for."

"Saluda-what?" Dean asked.

"Saludeterna. That's what they named the egregore," she explained.

"Its Spanish," Sam told them. Dean and Kole gave him blank looks.

"How do you know that?" Dean asked.

"Latin isn't the only language I've learned over the years," he told his brother with an almost sheepish grin. "What can I say? Some people are good at math; I'm good at picking up foreign languages."

"So," Kole broke in, "what does it mean?"

"Well, its actually two words put together: _salud_ and _eterna_. Together, they mean _everlasting health_."

Without warning, the large bookcase that Kole was sitting in front of burst into pieces, sending bits of wood and books crashing down. Dean and Sam were able to back away with little injury, but Kole got caught in the debris.

"Kole!" Sam called, then was suddenly thrown by unseen hands into the opposite wall, crashing down on one of the trunks Dean had left open.

Dean didn't have time to react or call out to Sam, as he was shoved backwards into a table topped with a myriad of music boxes. The table was too sturdy to collapse under him, so instead, the invisible egregore began throwing items at him. First, it was a collection a little spoons, apparently with the names of the states on them. Next came plates with images from musicals Dean had never seen, thrown like Frisbees and sent crashing down around him. Then, there were coins – an endless supply being shot at him like bullets.

Sam took in the scene around him. Kole was lying unconscious and half buried, but otherwise she was left alone and in no further danger (yet). Dean was doing a fair job of ducking and dodging items being thrown at him, but with no combatant to disarm, he was simply left on the defensive.

Thinking about what Kole had told them, the many collections made more sense to Sam. And it also made sense that, as the egregore was using the items as projectiles, it was more than likely the sacred object was not among the collections. Sam scanned the area quickly, looking for something out of place. There were so many groupings of like-things that trying to find what didn't seem to belong should be easy.

Or so Sam thought.

Deciding that, while the egregore was busy with Dean, Sam would have the best opportunity to locate the item. There was no point in trying to keep out of sight, since it seemed the house itself was after them. So, Sam decided to run towards the farther end of the room – the area that they had yet to search – since none of them had mentioned seeing anything out of the ordinary yet.

There were more dressers and tables and shelves full of collections of all sorts. Then, towards the center of the back half of the room, there was a small, waist-high, round-topped, _empty_ table. As nothing in this room appeared vacant, Sam figured it was as good a place to look as any.

Getting closer, he saw that the pedestal base of the table was actually a large hourglass. But, instead of the normal white or tan sand usually held in an hourglass, there was black glittering sand. And, though it seemed to be draining from the top half, there was no sand at the bottom. And at the center of the narrow part of the glass, there was a glowing red infinity symbol.

Sam grabbed a forearm crutch from a trunk holding various sorts of supports and sprinted towards the hourglass. As he neared it, he pulled his arms back, ready to swing the crutch like a bat and smash the glass. But, mid-swing, Sam was yanked back and toppled over a table full of cameo jewelry and snuff boxes.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled. Sam looked up to see his big brother rushing towards his half of the room, noticing the way Dean was hunched over a bit with his left arm protecting his ribs and the two new gashes on his forehead dripping blood down the side of his face. Dean was so focused on reaching Sam that he stopped paying attention to the objects coming at him.

"Dean look out!" Sam yelled to him as paperweights began flying at his back. Dean turned just in time to miss one directed at the back of his head, but he wasn't able to dodge the next one that managed to catch him on his left shoulder.

Sam saw Dean scramble behind a table and find something (a philately album) to use as a shield. Realizing that he could do nothing to prevent the attack, Sam started again for the hourglass. But once again, as he approached the object, he was thrown – this time in the opposite direction – like nothing more than a rag doll.

This time, Sam was thrown at a china hutch with glass doors. Luckily, the only pane that broke was towards the bottom where his shoe hit. However, the impact of his body caused the hutch to rock back and then fall forward – on top of Sam. He was able to catch the top and prevent more glass from shattering against and on top of himself, but the heavy piece of furniture rebelled and trapped Sam underneath.

Dean saw it all happen and yet was unable to do anything about it. He looked over to where Sam had been heading and saw the hourglass. _Atta boy, Sammy_. He started for it but was blocked and then pushed against the side wall by a hefty sideboard. They were now all immobilized.

But Dean could still reach into his waistband and retrieve his .45. Taking careful aim, he shot the hourglass. He smirked, but then realized that it didn't shatter – there was merely a small hole in the bottom half of the glass. Taking aim again, he shot at the top half and was rewarded with some impressive sparks though it was still not destroyed. One more try – he aimed for the center, using the red glow as a beacon.

The reaction was instantaneous. The hourglass exploded, showering its black sand around the room. But the sand didn't simply fall, it wafted down like ash and when it landed, it ignited whatever surface it touched.

Without the egregore holding the sideboard in place, Dean was able to move it with only slight difficulty. He ran over to Sam, and the two of them were able to lift the china hutch high enough for Sam to shimmy out from under.

"You OK?" Dean asked, looking his brother over for injuries.

"I'll be fine... as soon as we get out of here," Sam told him, trying to subtly examine his brother's wounds as well.

"Um guys? A little help here," Kole, who had regained consciousness at some point, was trying to remove herself from the pile of debris that held her down – the _smoking_ pile of debris.

Dean and Sam both ran over and began digging as Kole kept kicking and pushing bits of wood and paper off of herself. The three made quick work of the bundle and ran (awkwardly) to the far end of the room.

The fifth floor was catching fire quickly, causing a thick layer of smoke to form in the room. They each got down on their hands and knees to continue the search for the door.

"Here!" Sam finally called out. Dean and Kole rushed over as fast as they could crawl to find a three-foot high door. There was no knob, but Sam had decided he was ready to leave _now_ and kicked the door down.

They each shuffled through and found a rickety fire escape awaiting them. Given their options, they took the unsafe looking iron stairs. The stairs swayed with the wind but held until they were on the ground. Running further from the building until they felt they were at a safe distance, the three turned around to see the burning haunted house.

What they found instead was a shell of a building, ravaged by flames so long ago that the smell of burning wood no longer remained. The only clue that the unfortunate diseased young people and the egregore they created were ever there was the scattered black sand and glass shards that lay on the ground.

Without a word, Dean, Sam, and Kole walked back to the car where they had left it at the bar. Or, where the bar had been. It too was now just a burned out skeleton.

Dean was about to start tossing his weapons back into the trunk when he noticed something under his windshield wiper. He walked to the front of the car and found the take-out menu from the bar with their names and cell phone numbers written in an open space in Kole's handwriting.

Dean shook his head. He honestly didn't even want to think about it right now.

After they each put their weapons in the trunk and then got into the car, Dean took off for the highway. A couple exits later, in a town they had actually heard of, Sam was surprised when Dean pulled into a Taco Bell drive-thru. After explaining that it was the only thing open at this time of night, they drove to the nearest motel – a well-known chain – and got a room with two beds and a roll-away.

They dragged themselves into the room, ate their greasy mock-Mexican food in silence, then attended to their injuries. The whole ordeal (including the driving time) took less than sixty minutes. At the end of that hour, Dean, Sam, and Kole were each fast asleep, ready to forget the evening's ordeal.

* * *

Denouementophobia: fear of conclusions (yeah, OK... I made that one up)

- oh, and by the way... I've been trying to post this for 3 hours! I just want it known that I did, indeed, meet my own dead-line. Thank you.


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